


the birth of love like a force of nature

by we_are_the_same



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician), zayn malik - Fandom
Genre: Adult Liam Payne, Adult Zayn Malik, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bisexual Liam Payne, Brief kidnapping, Coming Out, Developing Friendships, Fae & Fairies, Fairies, Firefighter Liam, Florist Zayn, Fluff, Friendship, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Magical Zayn, No Smut, POV Liam, Past Liam Payne/OFC - Freeform, Strangers to Lovers, Talks About Sexual Identity, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25220503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_the_same/pseuds/we_are_the_same
Summary: After moving into a new house, Liam decides to introduce himself to the neighbours. The next thing he knows, he’s tied to a chair and threatened by a small army of fairies.
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 45
Kudos: 104
Collections: Ziam Fantasy Fest





	the birth of love like a force of nature

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I had selected another prompt for this fest, but with my wrists/hands giving me trouble and that prompt leading down an 80K rabbithole, I decided to switch prompts and came up with this instead. Thank you so much to the mods for hosting this fest and allowing me to change my prompt! I ended up finishing the fic with two months to spare, but I like how it ended up, and I love that I got the chance to write a long(ish) Ziam fic again. I might still give the original prompt a go in the future!
> 
> Thanks as always to the wonderful [Sarah](https://lightwoodsmagic.tumblr.com/) who writes the most amazing Ziam fic (seriously, check out her [work](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_writes/pseuds/lightswoodmagic)!) and who has been my beta, supporter and friend for less than a year but who has become so very dear to me in these months.
> 
> Also a massive thank you to Huda, who always pesters me for more Ziam and who I hopefully finally can get off my back for a little bit ;) just kidding, you know I love you babe. I love our 1 a.m. chats and the way you send me ten voice messages in three minutes. You're one of the reasons I will always come back to writing Ziam.
> 
> Lastly, thank you to those of you who still read Ziam fic, I know that fics like these might never get the hits/kudos/comments that Larry fics do, but every comment reminds me that there are still people who love this ship just as much as I do. Here's to more fic! <3

Liam is the kind of person that would happily stay in the same house his entire life. It’s not that he dislikes the process of moving, though he’s definitely not a fan of it, but he likes having a _home_. A place that doesn’t just feel transient, but that has memories in every room, echoes from times past. A place where he knows his neighbours - old Ms Colleen from down the street, who needs help with her groceries, and the young twins next door who always giggle when he tells them hello - knows their routine almost as well as he does his own.

But here he is, lugging the last of his boxes into his new house, that stands in an unfamiliar street in an unfamiliar part of town. With neighbours who peek at him from behind their curtains instead of coming out to say hello, or Liam assumes that they do, because he’s felt watched from the moment he first parked the van. 

It doesn’t help that he’s moving into a new place because of a recent break up, though he isn’t as sad about that as he probably should be. It feels weird, not being sad about breaking things off with someone he’s lived with for the past year and a half, but honestly, he’d known it was over long before they had the talk that made it official.

And they’re still friends, so that’s good. Liam probably could’ve continued to live with her for a little while longer, but ultimately, he’d gotten the chance to move into a lovely little house that had seemed pretty much perfect the moment he’d laid eyes on it. So here he is, twenty six and a half, trying to start a new life in a proper house. He wishes he could feel as grown up as it sounds, but he’s honestly a little bit terrified. He’s lived on his own, yes, but in dorms or in apartments with mates. Or with his now ex. Not all alone in a house that he _owns_ , with a mortgage that frankly terrifies him when he thinks about it for too long.

It’s not all bad, of course. He’s got his mates and his family closeby, has got a steady job as a fireman that affords him all the things he could need. Sure, there’s a part of him that had expected things to be different; fifteen year old Liam had been _so_ sure that in ten years time he would be married, maybe have a baby on the way.

Then again, fifteen year old Liam also had been _so_ sure that he was straight. 

Twenty six and a half year old Liam knows better, has been openly bisexual for close to five years now, and even though he’s spent the past four years in a relationship with a woman, that doesn’t invalidate how he is still very much bisexual. No matter what people say, or think when they look at him.

So here he is. Twenty six and a half, ready for a fresh start. There’s a part of him that’s nervous, but another part that’s excited, about having his own place. Doing his own thing.

Meeting his neighbours.

*

He’s been moved in for a couple of days - has finally unpacked the last of the boxes - without really interacting with any of his neighbours. He’d said a quick hello to the woman next door, but she’d been on her way to work and hadn’t really had time to chat. That, or she just hadn’t been keen on talking to Liam. Which was more than valid. Not everyone wanted to befriend their neighbours.

But Liam thinks that he should at least go and introduce himself. Maybe not to the woman, but to his next door neighbour on the left, because they share the path branching off to their respective front doors. It’s the polite thing to do, Liam thinks.

He isn’t a great baker, so rather than attempting to make his own muffins he opts for store bought, balancing them on one hand as he rings the doorbell with the other.

There’s no immediate reply, but Liam can hear some noise coming from the kitchen, so he steps off the path and heads for the kitchen window, intending to make himself known by knocking or simply waving at whoever’s around.

He’s barely peeked inside before the front door opens, and Liam hurries back, apology already on his lips - maybe coming up to the kitchen window wasn’t the greatest first impression, because it could be interpreted as peeping - when he realizes that there’s no one at the door.

He blinks. Takes a tentative step forward. Opens his mouth, perhaps to call out a ‘hello’.

The next thing he knows, his head is aching, his ears are ringing, and he’s tied to a chair.

*

He must be dreaming, or at least seeing things, he concludes, because whatever’s happening in front of him can’t be real. Humans aren’t that tiny. And they certainly don’t have _wings_.

Whatever they are, Liam thinks they’d look almost pretty, if it weren’t for the tiny fangs that he can see, and the absolutely furious expression on their faces. One of them gets right up in his face, to the point where he almost has to go cross eyed in order to keep his eyes on him. It? Liam isn’t sure what they are. He isn’t sure he even wants to know. He just wants to wake up, in his own bed, and maybe laugh about this with his neighbour in the future. 

There’s a noise, small and chittering, almost like a bird, and something is poked against his nose. It makes him jerk, and he can feel a small drop of blood welling up from his skin. As it slides down, he wonders if he’s ever dreamt in such vivid detail. 

Fingers. You have more fingers in dreams, Liam recalls. But his arms are tied behind his back and he can’t count them. There was something about time, too, or possibly about not being able to read? But the clock says it’s eleven fifteen and the newspaper on the kitchen counter is still in English.

The chittering noise becomes more insistent, and Liam is dimly aware of the fact that it’s coming from a tiny mouth, furious tiny eyes staring straight into his soul. It’s that, more than the fingers or the paper or the clock, that tells him he isn’t dreaming. He’d never be able to dream something like this up.

That leaves two options. 

The first, that he’s gone batshit insane in a matter of minutes. 

Alternatively, all of this, whatever it is, is actually going on. Liam’s just been kidnapped by a bunch of angry, tiny humanoids. 

Neither option is good, really, and Liam can feel his heart rate kicking up a notch, prays that his voice doesn’t tremble too badly when he demands “Let me go!”. He’s tall, in the prime of his life, if he can just get the ropes around his wrists to come a bit loose, he should be able to at least make a run for it. He struggles, twists his arms, growls under his breath when one of the creatures whizzes past his face, close enough that he can feel a small rush of air from their fluttering wings.

Then there’s a cloud of dust blown into his face, and everything goes dark for a second time.

*

When he blinks back to awareness, everything feels _soft_. Muted, but in a good way. It's sort of like if the feel of velvet was somehow able to permeate a room. Everything feels warm and lovely, and the little creatures floating around him don’t look so scary anymore. They look lovely, ethereal, and Liam sort of wants to reach out and touch one of their wings. 

His hands are still tied behind his back, but it doesn’t really worry him anymore. It’s probably for the best, those wings look fragile and Liam would never want to hurt any of these gorgeous creatures. He wonders if maybe they’d like to be his friends. He’d like friends. Though the thought of going to a pub with one of them sort of makes him want to giggle. 

The voice, when it reaches his ears, is jarring. It’s angry, words almost spat out, and it doesn’t fit with how floaty Liam is feeling. It takes him a moment, to even understand what’s being said. 

“I _said_ , undo it. _Now._ ”

The chittering sounds more melodious somehow, though there’s an undercurrent that doesn’t entirely fit, like the words - Liam assumes they’re words - don’t match the tone. Like there’s a part of him that should still be scared, but he can’t find it in him to be scared right now. Not even when someone else catches his attention. Especially not then, because this person might just be the most beautiful man Liam’s ever laid eyes on in his entire life. 

And he’s full sized. Liam can’t help but smile at that. “You’re lovely,” he says, because for once in his life he doesn’t feel like he has to hold back. “I’m glad you’re not tiny, like them. Though you’d look good with wings, I’m sure.”

The man holds back a groan. “Oh for God’s sake.” He murmurs, shaking his head and shifting closer, something careful in the way that he moves that Liam wants to tell him isn’t necessary. He isn’t going to hurt him. And he knows that this man would never hurt him either, he can tell by the gentle way he’s undoing Liam’s binds. “I’m so fucking sorry about this,” the man continues, inspecting Liam’s wrists, frowning at the redness that’s come from the ropes cutting into his skin. 

“Why?” Liam looks at his hands. Five fingers on each side. The chafing is minimal, and he’s sure the tightness in his shoulders will vanish soon enough. 

The chittering sounds more adamant now, and the man turns to glare at one of the tiny humanoids that’s floating nearby his shoulder. “I don’t _care_ ,” he tells him - at least, Liam’s assuming he’s talking to the creature, and not to him, because the response would not make sense if it was directed at him. “You had no right.”

More chittering, furious, and then the man blinks, turns hazel eyes to look at Liam. “They say you were spying.” He says quietly, and Liam doesn’t like that look on his face. Doesn’t like how he looks apprehensive now. 

He shakes his head. Mustn’t make the beautiful man sad. Liam wants to make him happy. Potentially have his babies. He resists the urge to tell him that they’d make pretty babies. Mostly because he knows two men can’t make babies.

Then again, he didn’t think tiny humanoid creatures with wings existed, so maybe he’s wrong in more than one way. 

The man is still looking at him, and Liam realizes he’s been a bit lost in thoughts. He blinks, tries to focus his gaze. “I wasn’t,” he says, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, like he’s had too much to drink, and his body and his brain aren’t in full alignment. “I’m Liam. I’m the new neighbour. I brought-” he glances around, spies one of the creatures sitting on top of a muffin, gleefully digging into another one, bringing handfuls of cake to its mouth. “Muffins.” He finishes, gesturing lamely towards the counter. 

“Fuck.” The man says. It’s followed by a loud sigh. Liam watches him as he pushes himself up from where he was crouched down, swears there’s something melodious in the way that he walks. Everything about him seems soft, and tender, which is odd considering the many tattoos that are lining his skin. They should make him look tough, intimidating maybe, but he just looks like Liam would love to take him to bed to snuggle with him. Even the way he plucks the creature from the muffin and sets it aside feels gentle. 

“Yes please,” Liam’s pretty sure he hadn’t meant to say that, but then, looking at the way the man blushes, he’s not sure he didn’t mean to say that. “Are you my neighbour? You’re very pretty.”

The man pinches the bridge of his nose, gives the creature in his palm an imploring look. “You’ve got to undo it,” it sounds more pleading now, less of an adamant tone to his voice, and Liam wonders how anyone can refrain from giving into whatever this man demanded from them. “No,” he continues, interrupting another rather insistent chittering. “It’s not how we do things. I’ll deal with this, okay?” His face softens. “I know, you were just trying to protect yourselves. And me. I appreciate that. But this isn’t the way we do things, you _know_ that. So please. Undo it.”

There’s silence for a moment, before one of the creatures flies up to his face. Liam looks at it curiously, only closing his eyes when air is gently blown into his face. More air than lungs on such a tiny creature should be able to hold, and it almost feels like wind is going straight through him, is tangling in his hair and flurrying down his nose and into his lungs. It feels fresh, and crisp, and slowly, as he exhales, the haze disappears.

With it, the confusion and fear returns, and now that he’s not tied to a chair, he all but jumps up and then backwards, trying to put space between him and the man standing in the kitchen with him, who still looks beautiful and gentle, but the simple fact that there’s these creatures hovering near his shoulder is enough to make Liam want to _run_.

“Please don’t go,” the man says, and Liam hates how years of being bullied still makes itself known in wanting to please everyone he comes across. He pauses, but his body is still tense, poised for flight. “I can explain.”

Liam _would_ like an explanation. He’s just not sure if he wants that more than he wants to be out of here. 

“Please,” it’s softer this time. “They won’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let them.”

“And you?” It’s the first he’s said in what feels like forever. He can barely remember anything that’s happened in the last however long it was since he’d seen the front door open, like it’s stuff that’s happened on a night out when he’s had one too many pints. “Are you going to hurt me?”

The man frowns. “No,” he says, and Liam isn’t sure why he decides to believe him, except it seems that whoever this guy is, he’s genuinely disturbed by the thought. “No one is going to hurt you, Liam. I promise.”

The creatures floating around the man don’t look as angry anymore, but they still look scary, and Liam isn’t sure he trusts them. “Do you control them then?”

The man cocks his head. “No, I wouldn’t say that,” he says, absently picking up a muffin and tugging off small pieces, to offer to one of the creatures that’s all but perched on his shoulder. “We need each other. It’s symbiosis, sort of. I don’t do anything they don’t want, and they don’t do anything I don’t want. Typically. If I’d been home, none of this would’ve happened. They’re supposed to know better.” He looks from the creatures to Liam. “They thought you were spying. They’re very private, and they were afraid that you were going to exploit them.”

“I don’t even know what they _are_ ,” Liam says. “I don’t even know who _you_ are.” Or _what_ , but he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t want to get on this man’s bad side. 

“I’m Zayn.” Zayn feeds another bit of muffin to one of the creatures. “And these are fairies.”

Fairies. Of course. Why wouldn’t it be fairies. This day’s already been crazy, why not add _fairies_ to the mix. “And you’re like, what, the fairy king or something?” 

Zayn laughs, but it doesn’t feel malicious. “No. I’m human, just like you are.”

Liam needs to sit down. He feels around behind him, relieved to find the chair right there. “How do you - how is this - have I lost my mind? This can’t be _real_.”

The smile on Zayn’s face is sympathetic now, and he sighs, says something under his breath to the fairies, who don’t look convinced but who end up leaving the room. Liam watches as they gently float past the fridge, into what might be the living room. “You’ve not gone crazy, Liam,” Zayn says softly, and Liam looks back at him. “I know that this, that it’s a lot to grasp, but _please_ , don’t tell anyone about them. I can’t - I don’t want them hurt. Or caught, or anything. What they did to you -- I know it’s hard to understand, but they were just trying to protect themselves. They’re not, I’m not going to say that they’re harmless, but they’re not malicious.”

He looks so sincere, sounds it too, and Liam sighs. It’s not like anyone would believe him if he told them, he reckons. “If I leave, they’ll leave me alone, yeah? I’m not gonna, like, have to check my house every time I go anywhere?”

Zayn shakes his head. “They wouldn’t do that. This is their _home_. It’s a safe place for them. They wouldn’t do anything to mess with that. They’re just protective, is all. Of the place, of each other. Of me. They’re not going to come after you, or try and hurt you. They’re - we’re not evil.” He sighs softly. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this. And I don’t blame you if you keep your distance. But you don’t have to be afraid.”

Liam nods. He isn’t sure he believes it, but as long as he gets to leave, he’ll take whatever Zayn is telling him. 

He is probably going to leave his house through the back door from now on though. Just in case.

*

Liam’s done a very good job of avoiding his neighbour (and the fairies living with him, though he still feels watched whenever he leaves the house) for about an entire week. He’s had less success avoiding thinking about the whole ordeal, to the point where barely ever an hour goes by that he doesn’t think about it. Work is a good distraction, and thankfully he’s able to keep his wits about him, but as soon as he’s home, with nothing to do, his thoughts drift.

The thing with thinking about something like that, is that over time, with enough exposure, it becomes less scary somehow. _Yes_ , Liam technically got kidnapped, but it was only for about fifteen minutes or so. _Yes_ , technically they drugged him, but it was only because they were afraid he’d hurt them. Can he really blame them for that?

Can he blame _Zayn_ for that?

He’s intrigued, is the problem. Not necessarily by Zayn - although, admittedly, he is very attractive - but by the fact that fairies not only exist but that they are right next door, living with his neighbour for some reason. 

There’s a part of him that wants to find out more. He wonders if he’d have the right to just march over and demand information, but then there’s another part that’s still worried, if not downright scared. Zayn had _said_ that this wasn’t their usual way, and he’d promised not to hurt him, but could Liam really trust him? 

He doesn’t really feel safe in his own home anymore, not until he figures out whether or not he’s in danger of being hurt by Zayn or his fairies, but no matter how many times he gets up from his chair, thinking that now is the time to get self righteous about it and demand answers, he never quite makes it out the door.

*

It’s seven in the morning and he’s only just returning from a night shift - soot in his hair still despite the quick shower he took at the station - when upon stepping onto his welcome mat he hears an odd sound.

A _crunch_.

Blearily, he glances down, stifles a yawn as he wills his eyes (and his brain) to focus. 

Glasses. 

Rather, what _used_ to be glasses, because Liam’s just about mangled them by stepping onto them with his combat boots. The lenses are definitely cracked, and the arms of the glasses look pretty bent. He winces as he reaches down to pick them up, brain too sluggish to wonder why there are glasses on his welcome mat just yet. 

Let alone wonder whose they are. 

Something in his brain clicks though, the something that’s been obsessed with going over every minute detail of what had happened to him the previous week. Those are Zayn’s glasses. 

His heart rate kicks up a notch, fear and nerves and something that’s closer to excitement swirling through his bloodstream, making him lightheaded. He should bring them over. Possibly apologize, though it isn’t really _his_ fault that Zayn’s glasses were left on his doorstep. But then, he’s exhausted. All he really wants is his bed. 

Then again, Zayn might need his glasses. Not that he’ll have much use for them with the shape they’re in now, but _still_. It’d be the right thing to do. 

Liam’s always been about doing the right thing. If he’s honest towards himself, it’s only in part due to his moral compass, and in part due to the fact that he’s spent his teenage years getting bullied and wondering what he’d have to do to make people like him. Doing the right thing hadn’t made him more popular than doing the wrong thing had, but at least it had made him feel better about himself. 

His hand still trembles when he knocks on Zayn’s door, and he wonders if his neighbour is even up. It’s only a little after seven, and if Zayn had dropped his glasses onto Liam’s welcome mat sometime during the night - they definitely hadn’t been there when Liam had left for work at ten thirty - then there was a possibility that he was drunk. What else could explain the random appearance of Zayn’s belongings on his doormat?

The answer is one Liam should’ve expected, really. 

Zayn opens the doors, looking every bit as exhausted as Liam feels, his hair in disarray and his eyes squinted as though he can’t quite make out what’s going on. Which, Liam registers, makes sense. Because _glasses_. He’s about to stick them out, say hello, maybe, or let slip that apology that’s on the tip of his tongue, when Zayn’s face goes from confusion to understanding to frustration all in the span of a second. “Oh for God’s sake.” He mutters, pinches the bridge of his nose. 

Liam feels affronted. That’s twice now that Zayn’s said that in regards to him, and he’s not the one living with fairies. “Hello,” he says, because that’s how _normal_ people greet their neighbours. Even if they’re at the door at seven in the morning, carrying broken glasses. He holds out the glasses. “You’ve left these on my doorstep.”

Zayn shakes his head before Liam’s even finished speaking, drags a hand through his hair that doesn’t help much with fixing his appearance. He still looks lovely though, even obviously frustrated. “I told them to leave you alone,” Zayn says, and Liam frowns, blaming fatigue for the fact that it takes him a bit to catch on. “The fairies,” Zayn clarifies, just as understanding dawns on him. “I knew they’d taken my glasses, they like the colours they can see through them when they hold them up in front of the light. I just figured they’d be in the living room, or something. They usually are.”

Liam frowns. “Well, they weren’t,” he says, as though that wasn’t already obvious. He’s not sure how he feels about the fact that they were left on his doorstep, because Zayn had promised him that his fairies wouldn’t come after him. He supposes there’s not much harm that glasses can do, but still. 

Zayn nods. “They probably thought you’d like them,” he yawns, taking the glasses from Liam’s hand and looking at them. “Seeing as I always want them back, if not quite for the same reason they take them in the first place.” He frowns at the cracked lenses, at the bent frames. “It might’ve been a peace offering.”

A peace offering. Huh. Liam has to admit that that’s sort of sweet. “I didn’t think they’d cared that much,” he says quietly, and Zayn snorts.

“I’ve been pretty pissed off with them, this week.” He admits. “They know better than to mess with my life. It’s one of the first agreements we made, when they first appeared. They can stay, and I’ll protect them, but they can’t interfere with other humans. Both for their safety, and my own. They must’ve been worried that I wasn’t going to forgive them.” He smiles a bit.

“Were you?” Liam asks. 

Zayn shrugs. “I need them just as much as they need me. I wasn’t happy about what happened, obviously. Not that I’d think you’d tell anyone, if you would have you’d have done so already, and I wouldn’t be here. But I’d like to have a good relationship with my neighbours. Kidnapping them on the first day is not a good start.”

Liam nods. “I’d save it for at least the fifth,” he agrees solemnly, and Zayn’s expression is blank for a moment, before he laughs. It’s a beautiful laugh, and it gives Liam courage. “I’d like to know about them, if you want to tell me. Not right now, because I’ve just come home from a night shift and I’m dying for a few hours of sleep, but, I’d like to know. I’d like to not feel watched or afraid in my own house.” If they had truly brought him the glasses as a peace offering, rather than just trying to be mischievous, then maybe he could extend an olive branch in return. If nothing else, he’d like to be on good standing with his neighbours too.

Zayn looks surprised, but pleased, at least Liam thinks that’s what his expression is. It’s quite sweet, and he blames the fatigue for wanting to reach out and brush his thumb over his jaw, see if it’s as sharp as it looks even with the soft expression on Zayn’s face. “I’d like that,” Zayn says softly, and Liam has to remind himself that that’s _not_ about touching Zayn - thankfully he’s not that dead on his feet that he’s said any of his thoughts out loud, for once. “You could come over for dinner, if you want?”

Dinner. With his extremely attractive neighbour. And his fairies. Liam’s not sure if he should be excited or terrified, but he figures somewhere in the middle is understandable. “Alright,” he agrees, giving him a little smile and a thumbs up that he immediately regrets because what twenty six year old gives a thumbs up in response to anything? “Dinner it is. I’ll see you then. And I’m really sorry about your glasses.”

Zayn smiles. “It’s alright. I’ll fix them.”

Liam thinks that’s rather foolishly optimistic, judging by the state of them, but he’s too tired to argue.

*

When he knocks on the door, at five minutes to seven, he’s surprised to see Zayn wearing his glasses when he opens up. The same glasses he’d smashed under his boot this morning now look like they had never been in better condition. Liam blinks. “Are you magic?” he asks, and Zayn laughs.

“Not exactly,” he says, and Liam isn’t sure what that's supposed to mean, but Zayn doesn’t elaborate, just holds the door so Liam can enter.

He’s still a bit nervous, but to his surprise there are no fairies in the living room, or the kitchen. Zayn must be able to tell that he’s keeping an eye out, because his fingers briefly touch Liam’s elbow and he tells him “We all agreed it was better that they weren’t around.”

Liam nods, grateful, though he’s still on edge, knowing that they are somewhere in the house. Knowing that despite his better judgment, he’s here, and perhaps putting himself in danger. “Thank you,” he says, because he was taught to be polite, learned that sometimes being polite is the best thing to do in situations that feel uncomfortable or threatening.

Zayn gives him a look at that. It’s not a bad look, per se, just thoughtful and introspective, and Liam wants to say something but he’s not sure what. So he just sits down at the dinner table in the kitchen, tries hard not to wonder if this is the same chair he’d been tied to just a few days earlier. He works to keep his breathing steady, tries to tell himself he’s not in any danger, but just being here brings a wave of renewed fear, and part of him wants to run out the door and never come back. 

There’s a soft sigh, and Zayn leans against the counter, his hands wrapped around the edge. “You can leave, if you want,” he says quietly, and something about his tone of voice makes Liam feel almost guilty for considering it. “I can tell you’re uncomfortable.”

Liam bites his lip. “Well,” he starts, “it is a lot. I never even thought fairies existed, and now here I am, in their home. It sort of feels like walking into the lion’s den.”

“It’s not their home,” Zayn corrects him softly. “It’s _my_ home. We share it, yes, but they’re not - you’re _safe_ here, Liam, I promise. What happened to you the other day, that’s never going to happen again.” He looks a bit lost now, young and sad. “It never should have happened in the first place.”

Liam can agree with that. He’s not so sure if the rest of it holds as true as that statement, but he wants it to. He doesn’t want to feel unsure about his neighbour, or feel unsafe in his own house. And pretending that it had never happened and that fairies didn’t exist wasn’t going to be a solution in the long run, so this is the better option. It _is_ , and maybe if he tells himself that another five times his heart rate will finally slow down. “Thank you,” he says again, tries to smile though he’s not sure how sincere it looks. “I’m scared. To trust you, or them, or both of you I suppose. Because I don’t know you, and I don’t know if I should be taking your word for anything.” It feels huge, to say this, when he’s not big on confrontation, but Zayn doesn’t blow up. He just nods.

“That’s fair,” he says softly. He opens the fridge, takes out a bottle of water for both of them. It seems like he’s just doing it to give himself something to do, because rather than drinking from it he starts peeling at the wrapper. “What does your instinct tell you? Instinct’s usually spot on, from what I’ve learned.”

“I -” Liam frowns. He’s not really learned to trust his instinct, is the thing. Not around people. He’s got his guard up, a natural defense that’s come from years of being bullied and taken advantage of. It’s different in his job. But then, he’s good at his job. Not quite so good with people. But fires, and buildings, and understanding the structure of them, he _knows_ that. He’s not sure if that’s instinct though, or something he’s learned from years of practise. “I don’t know,” he says softly. “I don’t think I’m in any immediate danger, but I don’t know if that’s instinct or if that’s just what I want to believe. I’m trying to tell myself that there’s no reason to be scared, but I don’t _know_.”

Zayn nods. “Because you don’t know me. Or them. You don’t know what they’re here for, and why I live with them. They’re valid concerns, Liam. I can tell that you feel conflicted about it, like you’re worried about offending me-” Liam _is_ , and he can’t help but wonder if the fact that Zayn knows this means that he’s got a better instinct about people than Liam does or if he’s magic after all. “All I can say is that, after what happened, the last thing you need to worry about is offending me. I’d be upset, if you chose to walk out of here and never spoke to me again, but I’d be upset about it because I’d hate for you to feel uncomfortable and scared about living here, not for any selfish reasons.” He gives Liam a soft, gentle smile. “I’d like you to stay. I’d like to explain, and maybe have you get to know them, but the ball’s very much in your court here. There’s no hard feelings. Not from me, or from them.” 

Liam can’t say he’s relaxed, but he’s relax _ing_ at Zayn’s words, and it prompts him to reach for the water bottle, opening it up and taking a few sips. “I’ll stay.”

*

Zayn, as it turns out, is an excellent cook. He’s made a veggie lasagna, and where Liam is usually quite keen on his meat he doesn’t feel like anything’s missing at all. It’s spicy and cheesy and gooey and _wonderful_ and Liam can’t be blamed for being quiet, he’s too busy eating to really keep up a conversation.

The thing is, it’s oddly calm, being with Zayn. As long as he doesn’t think about the fairies, or the fact that he hardly knows him, Liam feels almost content. Like there’s no _need_ to talk, like he can just exist in the same space as Zayn and have that be okay.

It’s not until dessert - a strawberry tiramisu that Liam would absolutely demand seconds of if he had any room left - that he looks up at Zayn, to find him watching him. His expression is unreadable, but Liam can tell that whatever he’s thinking, it’s nothing bad. Is that instinct? He’s not sure, but when he smiles at him Zayn smiles back, and instinct or not, it’s kind of nice. “So,” he says softly. “Tell me about them. About you.”

Zayn takes a delicate bite of his tiramisu, brushing his knuckles past his mouth to get rid of any cake crumbs. “I’ve lived here for about three years now. Moved down from Bradford, where I went to uni. Studied English, always figured I’d be an English teacher. _Was_ an English teacher, for about a year or two. Ended up moving here when I needed a change. Somehow found myself working in a flower shop, fell absolutely in love with it, and ended up opening up my own shop about a year and a half ago.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, but Liam is too focused on finding out where the fairies fit in to really ask any questions. It’s clear in the way he looks at Zayn, because he finds him smiling when their eyes meet. “The fairies have been with me for about two years now.” He says, and Liam wasn’t sure what he expected, but it still feels surreal, to hear him talk about fairies in such a casual way. “I woke up one morning and they’d made themselves at home. Thought I’d gone mad, at first,” he shrugs a shoulder, finishes off his dessert with two quick bites. “I mean. _Fairies_. Right? It’s not exactly something you’d expect to exist. I was scared too, just like you. They’re not exactly friendly looking if they don’t want to be, and here they were, just acting like they’d always been there.”

Liam nods. He’s sure he’d have much the same reaction if he woke up one day to find fairies in his house. “Did they ever-” he bites his lip, “were they ever dangerous, to you?” Did Zayn need saving from the fairies, is what he really wants to ask, but he doesn’t. Because he can’t save Zayn from two years ago any more than he can save the Zayn currently sitting opposite him at the table. Not from _fairies_. Fires, yes, structurally unsound buildings. But not fairies. 

Zayn shakes his head. “No. We figured out pretty quickly that I can understand them, so that helped. They’d been uprooted from their home, because of some new housing decision, their trees had been cut down and they needed a place to stay.”

“Why you?” 

Zayn smiles a little bit. “Remember when I said that I wasn’t exactly magical?” He gestures towards his glasses. “This wasn’t me. That was the fairies. But I do have some sort of magic, or magical affinity. I didn’t know, not until I got to know them. Fairies are attracted to magic. More particularly, nature magic.”

Liam stares at him. Zayn is magic. _Zayn_ is _magic_. 

Honestly, it makes more sense than anything that’s been happening with Zayn since he’s moved in. But still. It’s hard to wrap his head around it. He seems so _normal_. 

“I am normal,” Zayn counters softly, and oh, Liam hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He wants to apologize, but Zayn doesn’t sound defensive. Protective, maybe, of his magic and his fairies, and Liam can understand that. “I just have a gift, apparently.”

A gift. Liam nods, even if he’s not sure he understands yet. “When you say gift-” he starts, and sits back gratefully when Zayn takes his cue and picks up the conversation again. 

“It’s little things. Looking back, it’s always kind of been there. When I picked flowers for my mum, they never wilted as quickly as you’d expect. If animals were hurt, they’d always find me, somehow. My oldest sister called me Cinderella throughout childhood because she’d once seen me in the garden, talking to birds, and she _swore_ they understood me. They’d perch on my finger and sing to me, if I asked. And I took care of them. I’ve helped heal broken wings, legs, you name it.” He shrugs, like any of it isn’t straight from a fairytale. Like this kind of thing can just exist. Somehow, looking at Zayn, Liam finds himself believing that it just might. That there’s magic in the world. If there is, he concedes to himself, it makes complete sense that Zayn is magical. There’s just something about him. Something soft, and caring, that Liam can’t help but feel drawn to. 

“When I started working at the flower shop, things just all sort of fell into place. I’d never thought of what I did as extraordinary, but people kept coming back, kept complimenting the arrangements I’d made, saying that the flowers stayed fresh for so much longer than they were used to. I thought I was just lucky, at first. But then the fairies showed up, and they taught me that it’s not just luck, it’s an inherent skill I have. They’ve taught me how to use that skill, too. Nowadays, the bouquets don’t just stay fresh for a long time, they also make people feel better.” Zayn admits, and Liam is surprised to see him blushing a little bit. “It’s little things. A broken heart, that hurts just a little bit less. People in hospital, who are in a little bit less pain. I can’t fix anything, I never could, but I can make it better. I can _help_ , and maybe they heal a little bit faster, or maybe it just makes things a little bit easier. And that’s - I never would’ve known how to do that, without them.”

Liam feels kind of achy, in a strange way. The things Zayn is saying sound so wonderful, he almost wishes he could be a part of that world. In his own way, he’d always wanted to be a superhero, and while being a fireman definitely allowed him to change lives, it was still nothing that any other person couldn’t do. But Zayn, Zayn has _magic_. Zayn has an ability to change the world, and he’s doing it, in a way that is far more selfless than anything Liam could do. Because he can’t tell anyone, can’t take any of the credit. “That’s beautiful,” he whispers. Somehow, the conversation seems suited for whispering. 

Zayn looks at him. “I’ve never told anyone,” he admits, and he glances down at the table, only briefly meeting Liam’s eyes. “It’s not - I promised to keep them safe, but also, no one would believe me. People would think I’ve gone mental.” He shakes his head. “It’s weird, telling you. I know that I had no other choice. They know it too. We’ve talked about it. They suggested dusting you. Memory dust.” He says it softly, but Liam still feels a chill creeping down his spine. “I know it would be safer, for all of us, but I-” he looks up at Liam now, expression almost pleading. “I don’t want to do that if there’s another choice. I thought-”

Liam swallows. “Your secret’s safe with me,” he says softly, and to his own relief, he finds that he means it, isn’t just saying it because he’s scared of what will happen otherwise. “I wouldn’t ever tell anyone. Even without you threatening me.” 

“I didn’t-” Zayn starts, then sighs softly. “I didn’t mean to,” he says instead, and it sounds apologetic. “Honestly, I’m not - I hate that you feel like you have to be on edge around me. All I’ve ever wanted to do in life was help people. Make a difference, in a good way. And yet here I am, trampling all over your life and your understanding of the world. I’m _sorry_. If you, I’d hate to do it, but if you would rather forget all about it, then, we can, you know? They can make it happen. It isn’t meant to be a threat. I wouldn’t ever do it just because it’s easier for me, or them. Unless I had absolutely no choice. But if it’s easier for you, then, that’d make it different.”

Liam shakes his head, before he’s even fully contemplated the words, Zayn’s offer. “And forget about what you’re like? The way you help people?” He watches as another blush rises on Zayn’s cheeks. “I like knowing this about you. I like knowing they helped you, too. And I’m sorry that they were forced out of their homes. I can understand why they’d be so protective of this one.” He isn’t sure if there wasn’t a better way to deal with the threat than kidnapping him, but he understands now, that they were just scared of losing another home. Scared of what Liam’s presence in their lives could mean. “I’m not, like, ready to meet them again, or become best friends with them, but, I will keep their secret. And yours. I promise.”

There’s a soft, relieved smile on Zayn’s face, that stays there all the way up until they say goodnight.

*

Liam starts using the front door again. He still feels watched whenever he leaves his house, but he tries to hold onto what Zayn had said, that they were just protective of their home, of Zayn. Liam can sympathise with them, especially when it comes to Zayn. He’s already different enough to stand out in society - Liam isn’t blind to the fact that racism exists in the world, knows that closing his eyes and refusing to acknowledge his privilege is never going to help - without people knowing that he has magic. The last thing Liam wants is for someone to take advantage of Zayn. He’d liked him, had liked the time they spent together. Once they’d discussed the fairies, it had been almost simple.

Comfortable.

Liam isn’t ashamed to admit he sort of misses it. He used to have a solid home, used to have roots and stability, and though he doesn’t regret moving out of the place he shared with his girlfriend, he misses being in a house that feels like a home. Misses being around someone that moves through the same spaces with ease, misses, in a weird way, making space for someone. He’s still used to flattening himself against the kitchen counter because that’s what he always did in his old home, the space there too small for two people to comfortably pass each other by. 

But him and Zayn aren’t friends. They’ve had dinner, and they’ve talked about the fairies and sort of about their jobs and their families, but at the end of the night, there had been no promise to do this again soon. Liam’s not sure if that’s because Zayn hadn’t wanted to, or if he’d not wanted Liam to feel forced to accept another invitation into a place that he’s not sure he’s safe in. Maybe he’d thought that when Liam had said he wasn’t ready to meet them again, that meant he also wasn’t ready or willing to see Zayn. 

Liam’s not too sure on how to change that, he’s never been the kind of person that just invites himself into other people’s lives, too jaded from all the times it hadn’t worked out in the past. He’s friendly, yes, welcoming, but he’s very much a wallflower in social circumstances, waiting until someone invites him out onto the dance floor. Or at least, for an excuse. Moving in had been an excuse - and it had ended terribly, all but proving to him why it was safer to stay on the sidelines - and so had the glasses. The invitation to dinner had been easy to accept, but now, he has no excuse to go over, no reason except for the silly desire to spend time with his neighbour.

When he does get a reason, it comes in the form of Liam losing his keys. He’s late for work and he can’t find his damn car keys, when he knows for a fact that they should be in the bowl in the hallway, where they always are. He’s searched last night’s jacket, has dug through the couch just in case they’d slipped under the cushions somehow, but they’re just not _there_.

Desperate and against his better judgment, he checks the welcome mat in front of his house, but they’re not there either. 

He’s about to admit defeat and take the bus - annoyed because he’s late and even more annoyed because when he’d tried to tie his shoelaces he’d tugged too hard in his frustration and had broken the lace, which made him even _more_ late - when the doorbell rings. And Liam grunts under his breath, because he doesn’t have _time_ , it’s not like fires wait for anyone, and the people on the night shift are eager to go home and get some rest -

But it’s Zayn, standing on his doorstep, looking very sheepish, holding out Liam’s car keys to him. Liam groans. “Oh for God’s sake.”

Zayn bites down on his lip, but Liam can still see the corner of his mouth tugging up. “That’s my line,” he says, and Liam smiles despite himself. “Sorry.”

“Fairies.” Liam says, because it’s not a question, but Zayn still nods. “I thought you said they wouldn’t come after me, that I wouldn’t have to check my home.” 

Zayn nods again, frowning now, and Liam has a split second where he almost feels bad for the fairies. It’s not like they’d hurt him, after all. This was a nuisance, yes, and he’s late for work, but he knows that whether or not lives get saved isn’t all up to him. So there’s not any harm done, aside from the fact that he doesn’t like the thought of the fairies getting into his house, regardless of whether or not he’s there. “Sorry,” Zayn says again, and Liam nods this time too.

“Thank you for returning my keys. Is this, do they like keys the way they like glasses?” He doesn’t really have time to understand, but he knows the question will just keep haunting him if he doesn’t ask, and he needs his focus at work. 

Zayn shakes his head. “No, not that I know of.” He doesn’t quite meet Liam’s eyes, and Liam wants to ask him what reason they might have besides that, but he really doesn’t have the time.

“Listen, I need to go. I’m already late. I will, we will talk later, maybe, yeah?” He feels a bit awkward about saying it, but even more awkward about _not_ saying it, when Zayn’s on his doorstep looking upset at what the fairies had done, possibly even more than Liam is. “See if we can’t figure out what they want, or at least, how to keep them from stealing all my stuff.” It’s meant to sound light, but Zayn still cringes, and Liam sort of wants to wrap him up in a hug and promise him it’s okay. He settles for lightly touching Zayn’s shoulder as he passes him by.

*

They’ve not actually agreed on anything, but Liam still rings his doorbell when he’s been home long enough to take a shower. It’s around five in the afternoon, and he’s been toying with the idea of inviting Zayn over for dinner, though now that he’s in joggers and an old worn out tee, he’s not sure he has much of a desire to cook. He figures they could order take out though, if Zayn’s even interested in coming over. 

The door opens, but Zayn’s not there, and Liam shivers, knows without having to look inside that the fairies have opened it. “Zayn?” he calls out, trying to convince himself that he should just head inside, that Zayn had _promised_ him the fairies wouldn’t hurt him anymore, but all that is a lot harder to believe when Zayn’s not _there_. There’s no immediate response, and he tries again. “Zayn? It’s me - Liam.”

The response is faint, but unmistakably Zayn’s voice, coming from somewhere deep within the house. “Come in!”

It might still be a trick, Liam acknowledges, but he takes a deep breath and steps inside, grateful when after a few seconds, he’s still standing in the hallway, hasn’t ended up tied to a chair again. He can’t even see the fairies, and he wonders for a second if that’s because they’ve got the ability to make themselves invisible, or if they’re just trying not to spook him any more than he already is. “Where are you?” His voice still feels a bit shaky, but his hands are steady as he takes off his shoes, a habit he’s gotten into from childhood on. 

“I’ll be right there, you can wait in the kitchen if you like!” 

Liam _should_ wait in the kitchen. He’s honestly not sure why he doesn’t, why he follows the sound of Zayn’s voice instead. It’s rude, is what it is, and Liam is not rude. He’s also always aware of danger, but though there’s a slight buzzing in his stomach he doesn’t feel afraid. It just feels like he’s not quite in control of himself, as he moves towards where he’s sure he’s heard Zayn’s voice coming from. 

He comes to a stop in front of an opened door, suddenly realizes that this could’ve just as easily been Zayn’s bedroom and he’d walk in on him getting dressed, but thankfully he’s spared the embarrassment. Instead what he sees, primarily, is _green_. It’s like a forest, his brain tells him, and Liam has to blink a couple of times to take in the visual. It’s not quite a forest, because that’s not actually possible inside of a house - though a few weeks ago Liam would’ve said the same about magic - but it’s _nature_. Nature in a way that Liam is used to seeing it only in the countryside, not tucked away in a bedroom in the middle of a city. 

Zayn’s standing at the other side of the room, his back turned towards Liam, and it’s only when a soft “wow” drops from Liam’s lips that he seems to realize he’s here. Liam watches as his back stiffens, then relaxes as he turns around. 

“Hello,” he says softly, and he doesn’t need to say _I thought you’d wait in the kitchen_ , because it’s clear in the inflection in his voice. He doesn’t seem upset though, is amused more than anything. Liam still flushes.

“Sorry,” he says. “I should’ve-”

Zayn shrugs, finishes up tying a bright red ribbon around a bouquet of flowers, holding it out to one of the fairies that’s floating around the flowers like a lazy bumblebee. It chitters, and Zayn smiles, carefully putting the flowers in a vase. “If I’d really minded you coming in here, I wouldn’t have told the fairies to let you in.” He says, turning that same smile towards Liam. “I just figured this wasn’t the kind of room you’d like to be in. It’s where they spend most of their time.”

Liam nods, glances around, but he can’t see many of them. Aside from the one floating near Zayn’s bouquet, there are a few tucked away between the vines hanging from the ceiling, but nowhere near as many as he had somehow expected. And right now, in their own environment, they don’t seem very dangerous. “It’s beautiful though,” he says softly, and Zayn smiles again.

“It is. I grow most of my flowers outside, but I like making the bouquets in here, when I’m not in my shop. The flowers in here, they’re more potent.” He gestures towards the bouquet. “There’s only a few of them in there, but they should do the trick. Mrs Ramirez, from down the street, she broke her hip the other day. When she was in the hospital, they found out she has cancer. She doesn’t have any family so she didn’t want any treatment.” Zayn runs his fingers over one of the petals in the bouquet. “I was going to bring this over to her, hopefully make her feel a little bit better.”

Liam’s heart aches. “I’m sure she’ll love them.” He says softly. Then: “how did you know?”

Zayn glances at him. “The fairies told me,” he says, using the same soft voice as Liam. “They can sense it. They’ve been trying to teach me how to sense it, but it can take years. I can tell, typically, when someone’s right in front of me, which is useful in the shop, but when they’re just people, in their own houses, going about their daily lives, I can’t tell. But they can. They told me this morning, and I’ve been thinking about the bouquet all day while I was at work. Came in here as soon as I was home.” 

It’s there again. That confused feeling, because everything Zayn’s saying is so completely different from what Liam had experienced firsthand. He can’t rhyme it, the way the fairies seem to be looking out for people, with the way they’d had him tied to a chair and threatened to take away his memories. “That’s lovely,” he says quietly, because it _is_. 

Zayn hums. “You’re still not sure, on what to think about them.”

“Is that what they’re telling you?” 

He shakes his head. “No. Like I said, when people are right in front of me, I can pick up on emotions sometimes. Only strong ones. But I don’t need to really rely on anything like that. It’s obvious, with everything that has happened.” 

Liam nods. “It’s just, hard to rhyme. What they’ve done, with how you say they are. It’s not, I get why they did it. I don’t hold it against them anymore, I don’t think.” He frowns. “It’s just. I feel a little bit uneasy, when they’re around.”

Zayn hums again. “I know. They know. Which is why they’re invisible, right now. Typically, when they are, people don’t sense them. It’s how I’m able to have people over. Maybe it’s different for you, because you know they exist.” He delicately plucks a fairy out of his hair, one that clings to his finger until Zayn finds it a new temporary home in the bouquet he’s just made. “How many can you see?”

Liam looks around. “A couple. Five or six or so.” He frowns. “How many are there?”

A soft laugh escapes Zayn’s mouth. “More than that,” he says, and Liam looks around again, as though the knowledge that there are more fairies around should make them visible to him somehow. 

“How many?” He asks again.

Zayn shrugs. “I haven’t counted, but, at my best guess, there are about fifty of them altogether. Some are more shy than others, and not all of them work with me as much, but right now, I’d say there are about thirty five of them in here. The rest is probably around the house somewhere, or out back, tending to the flowers.” He looks at Liam, as though trying to read his face. “Some of them prefer to live in the shop, but most of them come home with me at the end of the day. It’s nice, for them, to have a place where they don’t need to be invisible.”

That stings, somehow. “Are they, is that because of me, right now?”

“You said you weren’t ready to meet them again.” It’s soft. “Since people don’t typically sense them when they’re invisible, we figured it was easier on you. When you came over for dinner last time, I told them to stay away, but I don’t think it’s fair to ask them to keep doing that. So, if you’re going to be a part of our lives, but you’re not ready to see them, this is the best we can do.” 

It’s understandable. It’s also a little upsetting. “I don’t want them to feel like they have to hide, when I’m over. I mean, it’s their home too,” Liam says, and he thinks it might’ve been the right thing to say, because Zayn smiles at him. “We could, I mean, I was coming over to ask you if you wanted to have dinner.” He nearly trips over his words as his brain registers that it sounds like he’s asking Zayn on a date. “I mean, I was going to order in, and we were going to talk, figure out why they’d taken my keys. So we could go to my place, and the fairies wouldn’t have to be invisible because they’d be here.” He knows it sounds like he still doesn’t want to see them, and he’s not sure if that’s entirely true anymore, but at the same time, he doesn’t feel like he should take it back. Wanting to be ready isn’t the same thing as being ready, and while the thought of coexisting with Zayn and the fairies is a nice one, right now it still feels as too much, too soon.

He thinks he might get there though. Thinks that maybe this is good. Getting to be around them like this, when Zayn’s making bouquets and they’re not threatening in the least, is helping. He wonders if that’s why the fairies had taken his car keys this morning. Because they are trying to put them together, so that Liam will learn he has nothing to fear. He’s not sure what other reason there can be, though with the way Zayn looks at him, soft and a little pensive, a slight blush on his cheeks, Liam can’t help but wonder.

“I’d like to be a part of your life,” he says softly, and Zayn’s cheeks grow a little darker, his eyelashes fluttering as he looks away from Liam, adjusting one of the flowers in the bouquet. “I enjoyed having dinner with you the other night. It felt .. comfortable. Like, you’re easy to talk to, and it sort of felt..”

“Like having a friend.” 

Liam nods. “I’d like to be your friend. And maybe theirs, in time. I don’t want them to feel like they have to hide around me, at least. It might still make me a little uneasy, at first, but so does knowing they’re around but not being able to see them.” 

Zayn nods too, turns towards the flower beds. “You heard him,” he says softly, “you can come out, if you want. It’s alright, you’re safe with him.” There’s a soft chittering, that gradually grows louder, this almost insistent buzz that doesn’t sound threatening but sounds careful. Somehow, Liam still isn’t prepared when fairies just pop into existence here and there. There’s a couple swinging from the vines, others nestled in between flowers. There’s one floating right near his face, and Liam’s first instinct is to step back, but then he sees that the fairy is holding out a flower towards him, this look on its face that Liam realizes is a smile.

He takes the flower with a sheepish sort of smile. “Oh, um, thank you?” He says softly, and there’s a small chittering sound in response, as the fairy cocks its head. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I don’t understand you.”

Zayn shifts, stands next to him, their shoulders almost pressed together. “She said, well, welcome, is the short summary. She’s, I guess you would say their leader? Although it’s different, with fairies, there’s no real human equivalent as to what she is. But she welcomed you to their home. The flower is a gift. This one calms anxiety.” He gives him a small smile. “It’s custom to give something back.”

Oh. Liam frowns. “I don’t think I’ve got anything to give them,” he says quietly, wondering if that’ll upset the fairy leader, but Zayn just smiles.

“It doesn’t have to be anything big. There’s a lot that we would consider rubbish that they think is absolutely wonderful. They particularly love shiny things. Nickels, shards of glass - though I wouldn’t know why you’d carry the latter around in your pocket.”

Liam digs his hand in, feeling around his joggers for something that he could give them. It’s an old, comfortable pair, but the pockets are woefully empty. “I might have something at home,” he says, glancing at the fairy. “I used to collect rocks and minerals, when I was a kid. I’ve got some pieces of pyrite, maybe they’d enjoy that?”

The fairy says something, Zayn cocking his head and listening, before nodding, giving Liam a brighter smile. “She says that childhood gifts are very potent, and that she’d feel honored to receive something so important.” 

Liam hesitates for a moment, unsure if that means he’s supposed to get it right now, but when he looks at Zayn, he just looks soft, which is nice but not all that helpful. “Should I-?” he asks, and Zayn smiles a little bit wider still. 

“If you want,” he says, and that isn’t too helpful either, but Liam doesn’t want to backtrack on the little bit of progress he seems to have made with the fairies so far, and he definitely doesn’t want Zayn to stop smiling at him like this (with his tongue pressed to the back of his teeth), so he nods, makes a gesture that’s supposed to mean he’ll be right back, and all but hurries back to his own house.

Luckily, his rock collection, or what’s left of it, is easily found. It’s still in a box, but Liam’s labeled all of his boxes prior to moving, so it takes more time to sort through the rocks and find the prettiest piece of pyrite that he can than it did to tug the box out of the closet he’d stored it in. 

It doesn’t take him more than a couple of minutes altogether, and this time, when he returns, he doesn’t feel any hesitance in stepping inside, just heads straight for the room where he’d left Zayn and his fairies. They’re still there, having a conversation, one that drops off the moment the fairy leader spots the piece of pyrite in his hands. 

She flies over, and Liam holds his breath as the delicate flutter of her wings ripples the air around his fingers. He can feel his heart pounding in his throat but it’s not fear, not really. He just wants to do this right. Wants to show them that he appreciates being welcomed, being trusted, even if it’s only a little bit.

The fairy says something to Zayn in that particular chittery voice, and Zayn’s smile grows softer. “She’s blessing you with an old fairy saying; I can’t really translate it, but the gist of it is that, because you’ve exchanged gifts, you’re now under their protection, for as long as you don’t do any harm to them or me. Since you’ve given them your gift, you’re basically promising to protect them too.” Liam feels a little thrill in his stomach, part of him wanting to ask what will happen if he doesn’t agree to that promise, or what would happen if he breaks it. Not that he has any intention of doing that, but he would’ve liked knowing all the consequences before unknowingly agreeing to something so important. 

Zayn must be able to tell, because he gently touches his elbow, taking him out of the room, the fairies staying behind. “It’s not as grave as all that,” he says softly. “It’s more, giving them a gift shows them you respect them, and their lives, and that you won’t deliberately cause them any harm. I don’t think any of us are expecting you to do that in the first place, and it’s not like they’ll hunt you down if you inadvertently do something to upset them. They’re not cruel, or vindictive.” He pauses. “Well, if you intentionally set out to destroy them, they can be, but that doesn’t seem like too much of an overreaction, now does it?”

Liam supposes that would only be fair. “And their protection, that means that I won’t have to worry about something like what happened the first time we met, about that happening again?” 

“You wouldn’t have to regardless,” Zayn reminds him gently. “But yes. With her blessing, she’s taken responsibility for all of them. If they ever did anything to hurt you now, you would be able to, I guess, start a war on them? Again, it’s hard to explain, there’s not really a human equivalent for what she’s just extended to you, but fairies take their honor very seriously. A promise is kind of like-” he gestures to nothing in particular, a frown on his face. “I’d say an Unbreakable Vow, but I don’t know if you even know what that means.”

Liam grins. “Are you kidding me? I _love_ Harry Potter.”

*

They order in food, and since they’ve both admitted to loving Harry Potter, it makes sense to pop in a movie. Zayn tells him the third one is his favorite, and Liam’s not really fussed about watching any of them in order - he’s seen them often enough that he can recite almost every line, and watching them feels sort of like wrapping a soft blanket around him - so they put on Prisoner of Azkaban while they talk. 

Even though he’d originally invited Zayn over with the intention of discussing why the fairies had stolen his car keys, the topic isn’t the first they end up talking about.

Instead it’s movies. They find out that it’s not just a love for Harry Potter that they have in common, but that they’re also both huge Marvel fans, looking forward to every new movie that’s released, and having firm opinions on which superhero is the best.

From there it’s an easy segue into hobbies, and while Harry Potter finds out about Sirius Black being his godfather in the background, they talk about how they’d gotten where they did in life.

Liam ends up telling Zayn about his recent break up, about how strange it feels now to think back on how he’d once thought he’d spend the rest of his life with her. He explains how they’d met, four years and a bit ago, and how things had ended recently, amicably, like most of their relationship had been.

Zayn, in turn, admits to never having been in a long term relationship. He looks sheepish as he says it, admitting to it as though he’s embarrassed. He fidgets with his sleeve, and Liam just wants to reach out and take his hand, but even though the conversation feels private he doesn’t think they’re at that level of intimacy yet.

He also doesn’t say it, but he does wonder what’s wrong with the world, for never jumping on the chance to be with Zayn. He’s smart, kind, funny, and absolutely stunning to look at. People should be lining up for a chance to date him.

“What are you looking for, in a partner?” Liam asks, and for the first time all evening, Zayn looks a little on edge. He holds himself different, tension in his shoulders that Liam doesn’t fully understand at first.

“Someone kind. Someone who makes me smile, who I can have fun with, but also can talk about all the important things with.” Zayn says, and it doesn’t escape Liam’s notice that he’s almost careful in the way he phrases it. In the way he’s using gender neutral terms when he speaks about his hypothetical future partner, and Liam remembers when he first discovered himself and when he subsequently had to figure out whether people in his life were ready to hear his truth. 

He smiles. Zayn could just be the type of person that’s trying to be more inclusive in his language. Or, and the thought is a little thrilling, he can’t lie, Zayn might not identify as straight. 

He also might not feel comfortable coming out to Liam, because they hardly know one another and he has no idea that Liam doesn’t identify as straight either. 

“That’s important,” he agrees, knowing he’s less than subtle when he continues. “The relationship I was in before I got together with my last ex, we had a lot of chemistry, but he wasn’t really a talker.” At least he manages not to put too much emphasis on the _he_ , though the way Zayn glances up and quirks his eyebrow makes it clear he didn’t fully manage to slip it in undetected. 

“He?” Zayn, thankfully, isn’t exactly subtle either. 

Liam nods. “I’ve been with mostly women, but, I’m bisexual.” Even five years in, it’s still strange, how he has to come out to every new person in his life. At least, the ones he cares enough about to tell. When he’d first figured himself out, had first gotten the courage to tell his parents, he figured that was it. He was out. But people still read him as straight, and at this point, Liam figures it’ll be an ongoing thing, no matter how much time passes. It’s not always easy, sometimes people get a little awkward, but he doubts Zayn will be like that.

One look at him, and he can tell that Zayn’s stopped being so tense, and Liam exhales in relief, glad that he hadn’t misread the situation. He watches him for a moment, as Zayn shifts to relax more into the cushions on the couch. “Me too,” he says after he’s made himself comfortable. “I mean, I think. I’m not exactly sure, actually. I know I like guys. I might like girls? But then I might just feel like I _should_ like girls, because of who I am and where I come from.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Like, I already stand out enough without being- so I don’t know. I’m not sure what label fits me, yet.”

“That’s alright though,” Liam says softly. “There’s really no need to figure all that out, anyway. Just as long as you love earnestly, you know?” He gestures towards himself. “Who I am, and who I love, those things are connected, but they’re not the same thing. And who I’m with, that doesn’t change my sexuality. I know that there’s this prejudice that being bi is just being greedy, or the gateway to being gay, but, I’m not confused. I’m not in denial. I just love who I love, and whether they’re male or female, it doesn’t matter.” He knows he might sound like he’s lecturing a little bit, but he’s had this conversation before, has had to explain that while he liked men and women in different ways, one wasn’t more valid than the other. 

Thankfully, Zayn just smiles. “I like that. What you said, about how who you are and who you love aren’t the same thing. That’s kind of like how I feel.” He watches Liam for a moment, eyes searching his face like he’s making his mind up about something. “Can I tell you something?” He barely waits for Liam to nod before continuing, words coming out on an exhale that feels eager, like he’s been waiting to let these words out for who knows how long. “I don’t know if I even _want_ to label myself? I just want to be able to love who I love. Without being judged for it, even from people within the community.” 

He frowns, glances away from Liam now, as though he’s worried Liam will judge him for telling him this. Liam’s again almost overtaken by the desire to comfort him, to let him know that it’s _okay_. That however he feels, however he identifies, it’s safe to share it here. “I feel like, the pressure to label myself kind of makes me feel like there’s no room to grow?” Zayn continues tentatively. “I don’t know who I’ll be ten years from now. So how can I know who I’ll love? I mean, sure, if I’ve only ever fallen in love with men, it kind of stands to reason that I’ll end up with one, but, I don’t know. I just feel it’s strange to limit myself, when everything in life has taught me that hardly anything’s permanent.” 

He bites his lip, giving Liam a sheepish look. “But usually, when I tell people that, they try to argue with me that this means I’m denying that people can be born a certain way, and that’s not what I’m trying to get at. I just feel, for _me_ , personally, that I don’t feel comfortable labeling myself.” He breathes out again, and it feels like he’s just been waiting to drop this weight off of his shoulders. Like he’s been wanting to have this conversation with Liam since they met, and Liam knows that’s an irrational thought to have, but he sort of feels like it’s true anyway. Because he’s felt the same way. Something about Zayn just invites him to share his secrets, to be the most honest version of himself that he can be. It doesn’t matter that they hardly know each other. It feels like they haven’t just met, but rather that they’re continuing on from something that was started ages ago. Maybe even centuries.

Liam’s not sure he really believes in past lives and soulmates, but he knows there’s something special about this nonetheless. About how comfortable he feels around Zayn, already. It’s so unlike him, but there’s just something about Zayn that makes it easy to open up, to want to share parts of himself that only his closest friends know. 

Zayn’s still looking at him, and Liam realizes that he’s been quiet, might’ve given Zayn the wrong idea. The last thing he wants him to think is that Liam is judging him, and this time he doesn’t stop himself from reaching out, though he doesn’t wrap him up in a hug like he wants to. He does shift closer, briefly touches his fingertips to Zayn’s knuckles. “I think I get what you mean,” he says softly, trying not to let himself get distracted by how soft Zayn’s skin feels underneath his fingers. “It feels like, labels can be good sometimes, but they can also feel restrictive? Like, there’s so much pressure to do it right. I’ve felt almost guilty, at times, for dating girls and still calling myself bi. But it’s not like I have to like guys and girls equally in order to be bi, and I can still fall in love with someone who’s nonbinary or trans, without invalidating my identity. But people don’t always understand.” He frowns, then shrugs a shoulder. “I’ve learned that that’s on them though. And to surround myself with people who _do_.”

He smiles at Zayn, finds him smiling back at him, and it’s there, this unspoken connection. This promise, that they _do_ understand, that this is a safe place. Liam shifts a bit closer. “I’m glad that we met,” he says quietly. “I’ve missed this. Talking to someone. Feeling like there’s an actual connection, like you’re not just face to face with someone but-”

“Heart to heart,” Zayn almost whispers it, looking up at him, and Liam’s smile grows.

“I know it’s early days, but, I feel like we could be great friends,” now that the fairies had promised to protect him, Liam doesn’t feel worried about spending time with Zayn anymore. The prospect of getting to go over there whenever he wants, of having conversations and watching movies, sharing a little bit of their life together - he feels warm and soft and fond. 

Zayn nods, looking just as warm and soft and fond as Liam feels. “Me too” he whispers, and Liam feels his heart ache with how wonderful this moment is. How _magical_.

He can’t remember the last time he’s been this happy.

*

Prisoner of Azkaban is followed up by Iron Man 2, which they watch exactly as much of as they had of the first movie they’d popped in. At some point, Liam grabs a blanket from the cupboard in the hallway, and they continue their conversations under thick knitted blankets, with the occasional cup of tea to keep them warm.

Even though Liam’s got an early shift at the station, he finds that he doesn’t mind, will gladly forgo sleep if it means staying in this little _LiamandZayn_ bubble they’ve created for a little bit longer. But at some point, when Zayn’s been steadily yawning for the past hour or so, and Liam looks at the time only to find out that it’s well past midnight even though he can’t recall hearing the clock chime, he figures that he should be the responsible one.

“I should get to bed,” he says softly, reluctantly, wondering how bad it would be to just fall asleep right here, with Zayn’s feet pressed up warm against his thigh. “I have an early shift.” It sounds almost apologetic to his own ears, and Zayn smiles at him, sleepy and soft in a way that makes Liam’s heart ache. He watches him nod, his movements slow and relaxed, as he extracts himself from the blanket, makes a haphazard attempt at folding it. “Leave it,” Liam murmurs, and he might reach for Zayn’s wrist, he’s not sure. He can’t recall moving but his fingers brush over soft, inked skin nonetheless. “I’ll fix it in the morning.” He yawns, and it prompts Zayn to yawn as well.

Zayn doesn’t bother putting his shoes on, just holds them in his hand as he follows Liam to the door, and something in the way he looks makes it impossible for Liam to resist wrapping him up in a hug. He murmurs “goodnight” into his hair, cherishes the way Zayn’s hand rests on his back for a moment. “Thank you for tonight.”

The smile he gets in response to his words, the one where Zayn’s tongue presses to the back of his teeth, makes Liam feel like everything is good in the world. 

The way Zayn sleepily responds “thank you for being you” is just the cherry on top of the cake.

*

Liam’s used to waking up because of fires. He’s trained for it, to sleep light because at any moment a call can come in and he’s supposed to be ready in minutes. Years of working as a firefighter has taught him everything he needs to know about the smell, the sound, and the danger of light flickering just behind his eyelids. 

It’s why, a couple of days after spending the evening with Zayn, he’s up in the middle of the night, next to his bed and fully alert, when all those sensations catch up to him at once. There’s something eerie about it, though, because even though there’s smoke in his nose and it sounds like something’s definitely burning, he can’t see any roaring fires, doesn’t really notice anything amiss at first.

But he knows better than to be lulled into a false sense of security, knows that even something small can be dangerous, and while he’s meticulously checking his own house, he happens to glance over at the slight flicker he detects from the corner of his eye.

Oh. 

It’s not his own house that’s in danger of burning down.

It’s _Zayn’s_.

His heart races for a moment, but it’s easy, slipping into work mode. He takes a deep breath, then another, gearing up just in case the fire coming from Zayn’s house is bigger than it seems to be. You can’t always tell, and it’s better to be safe.

His first concern is for Zayn, his primary instinct to make sure that he’s safe, that he’s out of the house and all the damage the fire can cause is only done to property. Hurrying to tie his shoes, he is about to rush out the door when he nearly collides with someone on his doorstep, has to dodge the hand raised to knock on the door.

Zayn.

Relief is instant and almost strong enough to knock him back, and he acts on impulse as he grabs hold of his face, checks him over for any sign of injury. Not just burns, but trouble breathing, but although Zayn looks a little out of breath, he mostly just looks scared.

“Liam,” Zayn whispers, and Liam nods.

“I know. It woke me up. Where is it?”

“Kitchen.” Zayn looks up at him, pleading. “Liam, the fairies.”

It’s impulse. Pure impulse, driven by the way that Zayn looks up at him, the way he needs Liam to take control, make it okay. “You shouldn’t go back inside,” he tells him, and Zayn shakes his head before Liam can even continue. He brushes his thumb over his bottom lip in an absent attempt to cut him off. “I’ll tell them they can come to my house, yeah? You get inside and stay there, I’ll handle it.”

Zayn nods, and Liam can tell that it’s not enough, that he needs more from him right now, some kind of reassurance or comfort. Liam would love to stay and give it to him - there’s little he wants more than to erase that frightened expression off of his face - but he knows that a simple kitchen fire can escalate all too quickly, and he doesn’t have the luxury of wasting any time, no matter how badly he wants to take Zayn in his arms and shelter him.

He crosses the path, heading into Zayn’s house, quick but careful. He needs to act fast, especially if he’s going to have to fight this fire on his own. Something he knows is dangerous, but what other option does he have? He can’t risk anyone finding out about the fairies, and unless he acts _now_ people are going to wake up and call the fire department, and then Zayn’s secret will be out and he might have to move and-

Liam can’t risk that. 

*

Luckily, the fire isn’t too big, and although most of the fairies have joined Zayn in Liam’s house, some stay behind and help him subdue the flames that are eagerly engulfing parts of the kitchen. For the first time, Liam is actually thankful for them, for the help they offer as well as the quiet reassurance that he’s not alone. 

Two in, two out, that’s the rule that Liam lives by during his job. Going into a burning building alone isn’t just dangerous, it could end up being lethal, and even if he knows that the fairies won’t be much help if he’d truly be in danger, it’s still nice knowing that he isn’t alone. 

When all that’s left is memories of the fire - smoke and black stains and a stench that will take days to clear up - Liam’s sweaty and covered in soot, but none of it seems to matter to Zayn, who all but rushes at him the moment he gets inside the house. The overwhelming relief that Liam felt upon seeing him on his doorstep earlier seems amplified in Zayn, whose arms around him should feel suffocating but only make him feel grounded instead. Liam sinks into his embrace gratefully, his own hand resting gently on Zayn’s back. “It wasn’t too bad,” he says softly, when after a minute or so Zayn still hasn’t made a move to pull away. “Couple of bits and pieces need replacing, and it’ll take a bit to get the smell out, but I managed to isolate it to the kitchen.” His hand shifts to rest on Zayn’s side, giving his hip a gentle squeeze. “Are you alright?”

Zayn nods, his face still pressed against Liam’s suit. “Worried,” he lets out, and Liam hums.

“It’s okay. The house is fine, and the fairies were actually amazing. They were a big help. Their home’s safe.” He reassures him, but Zayn just shakes his head.

“Was worried about you,” he admits, and though Liam isn’t sure what to say to that, Zayn seems to think that Liam hugging him back is the perfect response.

*

By the time Zayn’s calmed down a bit - after a cup of tea followed by something a little bit stronger to calm the nerves - it’s nearly four in the morning, and the fairies have found a home in Liam’s guest bedroom, enjoying the few plants and the soft, comfy duvet on the bed. The thought of them being there, in what is supposed to be his safe space, is surprisingly alright now. Liam’s not sure if it’s the promise that the fairy leader had made, or the fact that they had stayed behind and helped him - even if the latter was likely more for their own benefit than Liam’s - or even just because he’s too tired and Zayn’s feet are tucked comfortably under his thigh. But it’s nice. Having Zayn here is nice.

Zayn looks half asleep, his fingers still curled around his empty glass, head occasionally tipping back before he comes back to with a startled snore. It’s adorable. 

“You should get some sleep,” Liam offers softly, and Zayn nods, rubs at his eyes with a closed fist. 

“Is it weird that I don’t feel like going home?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper. He doesn’t quite look at Liam either, just puts his glass down on the coffee table and plays with the blanket that’s haphazardly covering them. “I mean, I know I have to, but-”

“You don’t,” Liam shifts a little, only enough to sit up a bit more. He regrets it immediately, when Zayn takes it as his cue to sit back up too, the warmth of his feet disappearing from underneath Liam’s thigh. “I can imagine that you don’t feel like going home right now. It’s hard to feel safe after a fire, and it’s probably gonna stink in your place right now too.” He gives him a small lopsided smile. “You can stay here tonight.” He pauses. “Or for the next couple of days, if you want. Like I said, a couple things need replacing. You probably won’t be able to cook for a while.” He knows Zayn’s family lives in Bradford, that it might be a struggle to pack up and go home, even without taking the fairies into account. And sure, Zayn might have friends, or be able to afford a hotel, but it’s just, well, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Liam lives right next door, he knows about the fairies, and Zayn could still keep an eye on his house, especially when people will come round to renovate the kitchen. 

There’s the small issue of the fact that Liam only has one guest bedroom, and that’s been claimed by the fairies, but he’s spent enough nights on his couch to know that it’s comfortable enough. And, if Zayn is prone to a sore back, Liam can always bring his mattress over, or take the couch so Zayn can take the bed. 

(He’s seen enough romantic movies to have a brief thought that they might end up sharing a bed, but he dismisses that notion, knows that they don’t know each other nearly well enough to suggest that)

Zayn looks at him, in that way that he does sometimes. Soft, but scrutinizing, like Liam’s a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. It reminds Liam too much of himself, and he wonders just how used Zayn is to being bullied, to having to try and read someone’s face to figure out whether or not they’re telling the truth. “Are you sure?” he asks, and Liam just smiles. Zayn still seems hesitant though. “I mean. I’d be beyond grateful, but, do you know what you’re offering? It wouldn’t be just me who’s staying here.” 

Liam nods. “I know,” he assures him. “I figured they would stay with you. And that’s alright. It’ll be better for them, won’t it? Than having to spend the next few days staying invisible because people might come round to fix something in the kitchen. That just seems mean, when they can stay here and be themselves.” He is glad to find no fear in himself at the thought, not even hesitance. “I promised to protect them. So I am. For their sake, and yours.”

Zayn glances away and for a moment Liam wonders if he’s said something wrong, but then Zayn looks back at him and oh. “Thank you,” Zayn whispers, tears in his eyes and a sheepish smile on his face. Liam resists the urge to lean over and brush the tears from his cheeks, but only barely. “That, that means a lot. Honestly. I was so worried- like you said, yeah, I’m not jumping for joy at the thought of sleeping in my own house because I’m well aware things could’ve ended up a lot worse than they did, and until I know what happened to cause the fire, I won’t really feel safe going back, but I figured I’d have to, because where else would they go? I can’t just leave them alone. I promised to protect them too, and the thought of breaking that promise-” he trails off, brushes his sleeve past his eyes.

“You won’t have to,” Liam assures him again, shifting just enough to rest his hand on Zayn’s knee. “You can stay here, all of you, as long as it takes.”

Zayn’s smile, although shaky, and with watery eyes, is real and beautiful and makes Liam’s heart ache in a way that’s familiar but not. “I don’t know what to say,” he says quietly, glancing down to pick at another thread on the blanket. “I mean. I kind of want to say that I love you, because this means so much, and you’ve been so amazing, but it feels weird saying that because it sounds like it should be too much, and people aren’t used to hearing it in a way that isn’t associated with romance but-” he stops himself from rambling, gives a sheepish shrug. “This means everything, and I sort of love you.”

Liam’s heart aches again. “I know what you mean,” he says softly, wanting Zayn to know that he _does_. Sure, it’s gratitude and relief and exhaustion, but also, it’s real. There’s something tangible between them, not in a romantic way, but they’ve made a connection nonetheless. And while human words can’t really do it justice, calling it love might not be too far off. “I sort of love you too.”

*

Liam has a night shift the next day, followed by a day off, something he’s very grateful for when they finally retire for the night at five in the morning. Zayn only tries to argue for a little bit when Liam insists that he takes the bed, but after everything he’s been through tonight Zayn deserves a good night’s rest. The fact that he caves in after only a minute or so makes Liam feel good about his decision, even when the couch turns out to be a little bit less comfortable than he’d remembered.

He wakes up to a gentle hand shaking his shoulder, to a lovely sight - a sleepy Zayn, dressed in the pajamas Liam let him borrow. They’re a bit too big on him, the shirt slipping off one shoulder, and with his hair still devoid of any product, he looks lovely and soft in a way that frankly, Liam thinks, should be illegal. 

“Hi,” he whispers, and Zayn smiles at him in that special way that he does.

“Hi,” he echoes, “I was wondering if you were alright with me making breakfast.”

Liam pushes himself up into a sitting position, dragging a hand through his hair when he becomes conscious of the rat’s nest that’s currently growing out of his scalp. “Yeah,” he stifles a yawn behind his hand, blinks at Zayn. “I mean, of course? You don’t have to ask.”

Zayn shrugs. “I mean, I sort of do. It’s your house and all.”

“Well, yeah, but,” Liam makes a motion that’s supposed to be in the general direction of Zayn’s house, with his now defunct kitchen. “If you’re going to be staying here for a couple of days it’d be weird not to let you cook in my house. What would you do if I was off to work? I can’t exactly expect you to not use any of my stuff.” Zayn gives him a sheepish grin at that, and Liam returns it with a bright one of his own. “You’re welcome to anything in my house, honestly. Groceries, the TV, anything you can’t bring over from your place.” He figures Zayn will bring his own shampoo if he needs a shower, not that Liam would at all mind if Zayn decided not to and ended up smelling like him, but _that’s_ not something he needs to say out loud. “And if you meant making not just yourself breakfast but me too, well, then I’d have even less of a reason to object.”

The sheepish smile on Zayn’s face turns into somewhat of a smirk, one that Liam doesn’t really get to savor because he rocks back on his heels and gets to his feet in a movement that’s so graceful that Liam almost envies him. “I figured making you breakfast is the least I could do after you let me have the bed last night,” he tells him, somehow still looking fond even with that smirk on his face. “Honestly though. Thank you. I know that I could do half of the stuff at home, like showering, or watching TV, but it just - I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like home if the fairies aren’t there. Maybe it’s silly, but, I’m sort of used to having them around. Gets a little bit lonely if they aren’t.”

Liam nods, scratching at his scalp and discovering that there’s still soot in his hair when his fingers come back stained. “Yeah,” he says absently, folding up the blanket and getting to his feet, finding his pillow covered in stains as well. “I might take a quick shower, I think,” he wiggles his fingers at Zayn, who looks at once guilty and a little amused. “Hey, you know they don’t have to stay in the guest room, right? They can come in here if they want. I mean, preferably not in the shower while I’m in it, but they shouldn’t feel like they have to hide away.” 

He wishes Zayn didn’t look so surprised at his words, would have liked for him to know that Liam’s more or less okay with them now, but he can understand that it still seems a bit sudden for Zayn. After all, it’s only been a few weeks since they’d kidnapped him. But so much has happened in the meantime, and Liam now sympathises with them more than anything. “It’s alright,” Liam presses on gently. “Truly, I promise.”

Zayn nods, passing him by on the way to the kitchen, his fingers gently pressing into Liam’s side for a moment. “In that case, I’ll make them some breakfast too.”

*

Liam sort of wants to keep Zayn around indefinitely, because breakfast is _amazing_ , and honestly, so is the company. It’s not that Liam isn’t used to living on his own, though he has spent most of his uni years with roommates or flatmates, and lived together with his girlfriend for the past year and a half, but he finds that he agrees with Zayn; once you’re used to living with someone, being alone is just sort of lonely. 

It’s easy with Zayn, too, and now that he’s used to seeing them, so is having the fairies around. Some of them have made themselves at home in his living room, checking out his plants, while some others playfully pester Zayn for some of his breakfast, despite the fact that Zayn had made them food too. It’s easy to see how fond Zayn is of them, how fond they are of him in return, and Liam finds himself almost reluctant to start up the day.

The plan is to head over to Zayn’s house and find out the source of the fire, as well as take stock of everything that’ll need to be replaced. There’s a couple shops they might hit up if there’s time before Liam has to go into work, and Liam honestly just wants to drag his feet and ask Zayn if he wouldn’t prefer to pop in a movie and make this a lazy day.

It doesn’t help that Zayn sort of looks like he wouldn’t mind if Liam did ask. 

As Liam’s washing up the dishes, Zayn makes the fairies promise to be good, reminds them that they’re guests in Liam’s house, and the way he smiles at Liam afterwards is so adorable that Liam can’t help but smile back. He thinks back on last night, on Zayn saying he sort of loved him, and there’s a part of him that thinks it might still hold true, even now that the shock and exhaustion have worn off. Liam knows that it’s definitely true for him, at least. He loves Zayn as a human being, as a person. A friend, hopefully. It makes him almost grateful for the way they had met, for the fairies’ subsequent gentle insistence that they needed to interact. He wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on what has the potential to be a great friendship.

Zayn drags him out of his thoughts with a gentle hand on Liam’s back, one that feels so warm that Liam simultaneously wants to move away and press into it. “You’ve been washing that plate for three minutes now,” he tells him softly, “I think it’s about as clean as it can get, babe.”

It’s not the voice he’s used to being called babe in, but Liam sort of likes it. He gives Zayn a sheepish smile, shifting the plate onto the drying rack. “I was thinking about what you said,” he admits, finishing off the last of the dishes. “About being lonely. I’m not used to being alone anymore either. It’s sort of nice, having you here. Sort of really nice, actually.” He watches as Zayn takes up a dish towel, wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to do that, but it’s nice, having him move through his kitchen like he’s made himself at home here. “I know that you’ll go home once everything’s sorted, but, would it be weird to suggest maybe just .. getting together for dinner once in a while? Just hang out, watch a movie, maybe play a game.”

Zayn smiles, handing him a plate once he’s dried his hands, and Liam puts it away almost absently. “I’d love that.” 

*

The house stinks, but once they enter the kitchen, they find that the damage thankfully isn’t too bad. It doesn’t take Liam long to locate the source of the fire - an electrical outlet - and though the oven and two cabinets have to be replaced, it should be easy enough to do. There’ll be a bit of painting, and a whole lot of airing out the place to make the kitchen habitable again, but all in all, Liam doubts it’ll take them more than a few days to get things sorted. 

Zayn tries arguing that he doesn’t need to help, that he can call someone to do it for him, but Liam can tell that his heart isn’t truly in it, that he’s only arguing because he feels like he should. So he opts to ignore everything Zayn’s just said, and drives them to the shops instead.

(Zayn’s sort of grateful smile says enough about just how annoyed at that he isn’t)

Picking out paint and new cabinets is easy, but they end up spending a good half hour going over different ovens, Zayn looking adorably focused as he tries to decide between two (in Liam’s mind equally good) ovens, once he’s narrowed it down from an initial five. Liam lets him take his time, plays a game on his phone, occasionally hming and ahing when Zayn says something, even though Liam’s 99% sure that he’s just talking to himself out loud.

Zayn eventually settles on the slightly more expensive oven, looking happy and satisfied with himself, and Liam has to resist the too fond smile that threatens to take over his face. He helps him track down an employee instead, then tunes back out when Zayn goes over his order, an absent glance at his phone telling him that they might have time to pop in a movie before he has to go into work.

He’s about to ask Zayn if he wants to watch the next Harry Potter when he notices that his smile has faded, and Liam finds himself frowning even before the employee has finished telling them that they’re booked solid with deliveries in the next week, and that the first available opportunity isn’t until next Friday. Almost a full week from today. 

There’s a brief moment where he relishes the thought of having Zayn in his house for the next six days, but Zayn looks upset, and Liam doesn’t like that one bit. “I think it could fit in my car,” he says, before he’s even fully thought it through. “If it’s in store, we could just take it home right now?”

Zayn frowns a bit at that, and when he asks “Are you sure?” Liam can’t quite figure out whether he’s talking about taking the oven home or if there’s the underlying assumption that Liam is doing this to make sure Zayn gets to go home as soon as possible. Which, he is and he isn’t. He wants Zayn to have his own space, to not feel worried about whether or not he’s overstaying his welcome, which Liam knows that Zayn is, regardless of how many times he will tell him it’s alright. But would he mind having Zayn around for a little bit longer? No.

So he shrugs a shoulder, smiles at him. “I just want you to feel comfortable,” he says, and maybe it’s a nonsensical answer, but he thinks Zayn gets it.

*

The oven is _heavy_ , and by the time they’ve managed to bring it into Zayn’s house Liam is sweating and a little out of breath. Zayn is loudly complaining that his arms feel like spaghetti noodles, but although he looks a little frazzled, he also looks happy and accomplished and young and Liam sort of wants to tug him close, sweaty bodies be damned.

He also sort of wants to kiss him.

The realisation sinks in slowly, that that’s what that low simmering heat in his stomach means. He wants to kiss Zayn. He wants to pull him close and sink his fingers into his hair, tilt his head up and see the way he smiles with his tongue pressed to the back of his teeth. He wants to see that look in his eyes, that quiet fondness that he has wanted to bask in since the first time Zayn had looked at him like that. He wants to shift close enough that he can feel Zayn’s breath puff out against his lips. And then he wants to _kiss_ him. 

Oh.

Oh no.

*

He’s almost relieved when it’s time to go into work that evening. For most of the afternoon, Liam hadn’t been able to shake the realisation, and it had made him go a bit crazy as he’d analyzed almost every interaction they’d had that afternoon. 

The way Zayn had smiled at him. The way he’d brought Liam coffee about an hour before he had to leave, because he wanted to make sure Liam wouldn’t be too tired at work. The way he’d smiled and thanked him for everything he’d done today and Liam had been convinced that he’d been about to ask if he was really sure he could stay for another night, but then his eyes had softened as Liam’s hand had unconsciously reached out to squeeze his arm. The way he’d automatically tucked his feet under Liam’s thigh when they’d found their way onto the couch with a Harry Potter movie neither of them had really paid attention to. 

It’s the little things that Liam does too, that he would never ordinarily think about twice. It’s how easy it is to be tactile with Zayn, how it feels normal to hug him before he has to leave to go into work. How when Zayn had been sitting close, Liam had had to resist the impulse to brush his fingertips over his bare ankle. 

He knows that they’re friends. Even though they’ve only known each other for a few weeks, Liam feels comfortable in saying that, especially with the amount of time they’d spent together since the fire. But now, there’s that underlying wonder, if that’s all it is. 

The fact that he’s never wanted to kiss any of his friends before should maybe clue him in on the answer, but at the same time, being tactile with Zayn doesn’t feel loaded, the way that his interactions with people he’s crushed on have been. There’s none of that tension, and maybe that’s just because Zayn only considers him a friend, or maybe it’s because up until a few hours ago Liam hadn’t even considered Zayn as someone he could potentially be interested in, but even now that he’s hyper aware of everything, it isn’t awkward. 

Zayn still smiles at him the same way. Still looks at him with that same soft expression. 

Of course, that could just be because Liam hasn’t mentioned anything about his epiphany. For one, right now is not the right time. Zayn’s gone through a traumatic event, he needs a safe place, somewhere that he can feel comfortable and relax. And with Liam working the night shift, the last thing he needs is something that’ll take his mind off of the job, when doing that could literally put his life in danger. 

And besides. It’s only a little crush. If that’s even what it is. It might just be adrenaline, the high of having made a new friend, of knowing that he’d made someone happy when that was still something he had trouble believing sometimes. Maybe, after working for a few hours, by the time he’ll come home, he’ll have completely forgotten about wanting to kiss Zayn.

*

It’s a busy night, and by the time Liam comes home at seven in the morning, all he wants is a shower and his bed. He’s aching, his skin feels like it’s covered in a small but suffocating layer of grime, and though he really should have showered at the station, nothing beats his own shower, with his own shampoo and _privacy_. 

No matter how tired he is, he’s still aware of the fact that Zayn is likely asleep, so he takes his shoes off by the door, set to tiptoe through his apartment. He doesn’t get more than a few steps in, before he’s shocked into stillness by two arms around him, strong and almost a little distressed. His own hand’s slipped to the small of Zayn’s back before he’s even processed his muffled “You’re back.”

It’s almost identical to the way he’d held onto him on the night of the fire, and Liam suddenly realizes that oh, of course his job would bring back memories. He holds onto him a little sweeter then, resists the urge to press a kiss onto his hair. “I’m back,” he reassures him, dropping his shoes in favor of wrapping his other arm around Zayn’s waist too. “Safe and sound.”

Zayn’s breath comes out in a little shudder. “I hate your job,” he mumbles, and Liam does press a kiss to the top of his hair then. 

*

After a quick shower, Liam leaves his bathroom only to find Zayn in his bedroom, looking sheepish and bleary eyed. “I didn’t sleep,” he admits softly, a pillow hugged to his chest, his eyes following Liam through the room as he grabs a shirt from his closet. “Couldn’t.” He huffs. “I always thought firemen were hot, but after waking up to a fire in my own house-” he cuts himself off, buries his face in the pillow for a moment. “All I could think about was what if something went wrong, and you ended up dying, and I wouldn’t know because no one would come to your house to tell me.”

It’s understandable, the fear. The intensity is a bit surprising, but Liam’s used to people worrying about him. His mum, his dad, his ex girlfriend. None of them had really been keen on his job, but Liam had always known that this was what he was born to do. Yes, it could be dangerous, but he was careful, and good at his job. He could tell Zayn all of that. Could tell him about the protocols and two men in, two men out system that they’ve got going on. About all the things he’s learned about how to recognize when buildings were structurally unsound, about the sounds and the suits and everything that’s meant to keep him safe. 

But instead he just sits down next to him, rests a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it. “But I didn’t,” he says gently. “I’m home. I’m _safe_.” 

Zayn shudders under his touch, but he lets go of the pillow in favor of wrapping his arms around Liam again. “Promise?” He asks, and he must know that that’s a silly thing to ask, but Liam thinks he gets it nonetheless. He also gets why Zayn is clingy, because sometimes the best way to convince your brain that something is real is by touch. 

He’ll gladly reassure Zayn, if that’s what he needs. So he wraps his own arms around him again, pushes away the fatigue and the discomfort of sitting here hunched over, in favor of making Zayn feel better. “Promise.”

*

At some point during the night they must have fallen asleep together, because Liam wakes up to Zayn’s phone going off, an alarm that feels too early after a night shift. He finds himself wrapped around Zayn, his face pressed to the back of his neck, and he blames fatigue for wanting to snuggle in, inhale his scent and drift back off to sleep.

Zayn doesn’t seem in much of a hurry to leave either, and somehow Liam isn’t surprised to see that he’s not even woken up at all, is sleeping soundly through the alarm. It makes him chuckle, his hand light on Zayn’s shoulder as he tries to shift enough to reach his phone. It’s early, still, he could sleep for a few more minutes.

He wakes up a second time what feels like only a little while later, but this time he’s alone and the bed feels cold.

*

Zayn looks lovely and soft, dressed in some old dungarees that have paint splatters all over the front, a bandana tied in his hair to keep it from falling into his eyes. He’s made breakfast again, a spinach and cheese frittata this time, and it’s just as excellent as what he’d made the day before. He’s also made coffee, something Liam is exceptionally grateful for, because while he knows that he could do with some more sleep, he promised Zayn he’d help him paint and install the appliances today. 

Breakfast is quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way, Liam thinks. Zayn doesn’t seem to feel embarrassed about falling asleep in Liam’s bed, but then, he might not think that Liam knows, seeing as how he woke up alone the second time. He wonders if Zayn would be different if he knew that Liam knows, if he’d be shy or flustered, or if this is just as normal as anything else has felt between them so far. 

Last night, Liam had been too tired to register it, and he’s still tired now, but despite that, he knows for a fact that what he’d expected to happen, and had maybe hoped for, is absolutely one hundred percent untrue. He still wants to kiss Zayn. Seeing him, fingers curled around his coffee, his eyes half closed and a soft, naturally sensual smile on his face, Liam thinks that maybe he wants to kiss him more than ever.

He’s not sure why he doesn’t say anything about it. Yes, there’s the fact that Zayn is depending on him right now, and he doesn’t want there to be even a minute of confusion, doesn’t want Zayn to think that Liam’s only trying to be nice to get into his pants. And there’s also the fact that they’re just getting to know each other, and Liam might need a friend more than he needs a boyfriend - it _has_ only been a few short weeks since he moved out of his ex’s apartment, and he’d hate for Zayn to think that he’s on the rebound. But there’s also that slight niggling feeling that Zayn is magical - _literally_ \- and that Liam could never hope to hold his interest for long. 

He knows it’s his insecurity talking, in part, that it’s borne from years of being rejected and only having his family to tell him he was worth all the good things in life. He even knows, logically, that Zayn could do a lot worse. He’s got a stable job, has his shit together, isn’t the type to fuck around or play with someone’s feelings. But Zayn deserves more than ‘could do worse’. Zayn deserves the best. And Liam isn’t sure that he’d ever fully fit into his world. He doesn’t belong there, with magic and fairies and abilities that go far beyond talent or training. 

But then, being his friend isn’t a consolation prize. At least he gets to be a part of his life, for as long as he’s around.

*

By the time they’ve managed to paint and install the appliances it’s past six in the evening, and Liam feels sore and sweaty in ways he’s used to associate with his job. It’s worth it though, because Zayn looks accomplished and exhilarated, sat on the floor with his back against a kitchen cabinet. There’s a beer in his hand, one in Liam’s too, who is propped up against the fridge, and their feet are close enough that if Liam just stretched his toes he could nudge Zayn’s ankle.

“Happy?” he asks, and Zayn doesn’t even have to smile for him to know that he is. But of course he does, in that special Zayn way, before he nods.

“It looks amazing.”

Liam is a little bit biased, of course, but even he has to agree that it looks pretty damn good. “Maybe I should switch careers,” he jokes, though he’s reminded of Zayn holding onto him that morning, of the fear that his job has always carried with it. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good with my hands.”

Zayn snorts, hides it by taking a swig of beer. “I bet,” he says, and it takes Liam a moment to catch on, for his cheeks to warm, but by that time Zayn’s already continued. “You shouldn’t though. Being a firefighter is your life goal.”

Something about the way he says it, about how he calls it a life goal rather than a dream job, about how simple yet certain it sounds, gives Liam pause, and he looks at Zayn, arches an eyebrow. “You think?”

Zayn shakes his head then. “No,” he says, pointing his bottle in Liam’s direction. “I _know_.”

“You do, huh?”

Liam watches as Zayn bites his lip, his confidence wavering for a moment, before he meets Liam’s eyes. “Yeah,” he says, and it sounds soft and a little bit unsure. “The fairies told me.”

It’s not what Liam had expected, even if it was probably what he _should’ve_ expected. “Huh.”

“I was terrified, when you went into work last night,” Zayn says, and now Liam understands his reluctance to explain, because Zayn blushes as he speaks, starts fidgeting with the label on the bottle, watching his own hands as though it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “I could never do what you do, fire’s always intrigued me but it’s also sort of terrified me, even before what happened. And I know that you’re smart, and careful, and that you know how to do your job, but the thought of you going into building burnings - _willingly_ ignoring your instincts, it’s just. I wanted so badly to call you and tell you to come home, tell you to stop risking your life for other people.” He glances up at Liam, though his eyes skitter away the moment he catches his gaze. “It feels terribly selfish to think it, let alone even say it, I’m aware. But I’ve spent my life trying to learn to listen to my instincts, and knowing that you do the exact opposite is unfathomable.”

Liam wants to point out that, _actually_ , his job relies a lot on instinct, but Zayn isn’t done, his breath a little bit less shaky as he continues. “So I was trying to distract myself, and I went into your garden, with some of the fairies, and they told me.” He looks up at him now, actually allows their eyes to meet. “You’re magic. They said that they knew from the moment we met, but that it was very faint, and they weren’t really sure what caused it until the fire. And then they knew.” He’s smiling a little bit now, gestures towards Liam again. “You were always meant to be a firefighter. It’s in your soul. You have this natural ability, not to like, control fire, but you’re less affected by it.” He pauses. “Have you ever noticed anything?”

Honestly, Liam’s head is sort of reeling, and he doesn’t think he’s ever noticed anything about _anything_ , or at least, not that he can recall right in this moment. He’s still very much stuck on apparently being _magic_. So he splutters, and Zayn laughs, something soft and fond that Liam wants to bottle and carry around for all those times that he feels a little out of sorts. 

“They said that it’s kind of like, a resistance? Fire doesn’t touch you the way it touches others, and they think you might also have some ability to sense danger? Or know where people are, in case of a fire, or ability to get them out without getting into trouble. They weren’t really sure how your magical affinity affected you, but the queen said that they’d be able to help you train it, enhance your ability and understand it, if you wanted to.” Zayn looks up at him again, his smile softer than it’s possibly ever been. “The point is, there’s something inside of you, something magical, and it makes you more suited for this job than anyone else.” He grimaces then. “I still really fucking hate it, and I still couldn’t make myself go to sleep until you were back, but, it was nice that they told me.”

It’s … a _lot_ , if Liam’s honest. There’s a part of him that wants to ask Zayn if he’s taking the mickey out of him, but he knows better than that. Zayn isn’t the type to make fun, but despite knowing that, it’s still hard to believe that what he’s saying is genuine. He can’t be magical. Magic is reserved for special people. 

People like Zayn. 

Zayn, who is looking at him with this soft and curious expression, and Liam wonders just how much he can read on his face. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?” he says softly, and Liam nods because it _is_. He’s just gotten used to the concept of magic, the knowledge that fairies exist. Knowing that he’s involved in it somehow, it feels like any moment now someone will burst in to tell him he’s been pranked. Or that he’s lost his mind after all. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, and Zayn shifts, nudges his toes against Liam’s leg. 

“I’m not, but they are. They wouldn’t lie to you, or to me,” Zayn assures him, and Liam knows that too, but he’s still glad that Zayn says it. “Listen, whatever magic you were born with, it doesn’t have to mean anything, yeah? You don’t have to do anything with it.”

That feels sort of unfair, Liam thinks, because if it makes him more suited for his job, if he could be _better_ at it, doesn’t he owe it to whoever bestowed it upon him to make the most of his quote unquote gift? “You said they could help me understand it?” He looks up from his nearly empty bottle of beer, knowing that he should slow down, that he hasn’t eaten enough to dip into the fridge for another. No matter how much part of this conversation makes him want to. “Develop it?”

Zayn nods. “Only if you want to,” he stresses again, but he’s mild about it. Liam appreciates it, the gentle approach that Zayn seems to have towards most things. “Their magic is more concerned with nature, but fire is a natural element, and they’ve learned to understand it and in some cases even harness it. I don’t know everything about it, I was a little too worried about you to fully listen to the whole backstory, but, they could tell you all about it.”

He shifts closer to Liam, sits by him, their thighs not quite touching but close enough that Liam can feel the warmth that radiates from Zayn’s skin. “How do you feel?” Zayn asks, and with his hand gently grazing over Liam’s knee, Liam isn’t sure he can even hope to answer that question.

But at the same time his touch settles him, makes him feel like he can breathe again. It’s not the magic that Zayn is known for, but Liam still revels in it, in this special sort of magic that exists between two people who have formed a deep connection, one that goes beyond words. It feels natural, to rest his hand over Zayn’s. “Surprised,” he says softly, taking time to explore his feelings, navigate his way through the mess in his head. “A little scared. But also, it’s sort of a relief?”

“Because you’re in less danger during work than you thought you might be?”

Liam bites his lip. “That too,” he allows, and he blames the fatigue, the alcohol, Zayn’s scent and the fact that he’s just learned something incredible about himself for not keeping it at that. “But also, I thought, how could I ever compete with you - or no, not compete, but, how would I ever be able to keep you interested when I’m so dull, compared to you.” He watches the way Zayn’s hand twitches under his, feels when his fingertips start drumming an absent rhythm on Liam’s knee. “I figured I’d never quite fit into your world, and at some point, you’d realize that, and get bored of me.”

The silence between them stretches out for longer than Liam is comfortable with, and when Zayn breaks it, it’s with a shivery intake of breath that feels painful. “Do you think I’m that shallow?” he asks, and there’s genuine hurt in his voice now.

Liam frowns. That’s not at all what he’d intended to bring across with his words. “No,” he says softly, then again, and firmer. “No. It’s just, you’re so - and I’m so-” 

“Wonderful.” Zayn finishes, when Liam doesn’t continue his sentence. “And kind, and smart, and strong and loyal and _brave_.” He shakes his head, looking as though he sort of wants to shake Liam. “You don’t need magic to be any of those things, Liam. I’ve thought you were wonderful from the first time we met.”

Their eyes meet, and Liam can’t not believe him when he sees the look in his eyes. The fierce determination to make him believe what he’s saying. “You did?”

Zayn nods, and his hand shifts, off Liam’s leg and onto his face, where he brushes some of his hair from his forehead. It seems like he’s hardly aware of doing it, because even though he’s looking at Liam it seems like he’s not really seeing him, like he’s too caught up in trying to convince Liam that he’s worthy. “You’re lovely,” he whispers, his fingers drifting down his cheek and brushing over the stubble on his jaw before dropping down to rest on his arm. “Funny, and caring, and amazing and sexy.”

Liam arches an eyebrow. “ _Sexy_?” he echoes, and Zayn must’ve not realized he’d said that, because his eyes become a little more focused, and then widen, as a blush rises on his cheeks. “You think I’m sexy?”

“Fuck.” Zayn grunts, glancing away, but Liam stops him from getting too far, shifts to rest a casual hand on Zayn’s thigh. It stops him from moving, though he doesn’t meet Liam’s eyes, is too busy staring at Liam’s hand instead. “I didn’t mean to say that. I mean, it’s not that it’s not true, because it is and you _are_ , but, you just broke up with your ex, and we’re only getting to know each other, and the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable, because I’ve really loved spending time with you and-”

“Zayn.” Liam says softly, and Zayn stops talking immediately. It’d be a good first step if it weren’t for the way he hunches in on himself. “Thank you, first of all. Those might’ve been the nicest things anyone’s said to me in a while.” 

Zayn glances up, briefly. “But?”

Liam shifts, taking Zayn’s hand and cradling it in between his own. “ _And_ , I happen to think you’re very sexy too.” He feels his heart pounding, feels Zayn’s fingers twitch in between his own, and as much as he knows putting himself out there is the right thing to do in this moment, he also still feels vulnerable, a little too vulnerable to meet his eyes. So he brushes his lips over Zayn’s knuckles instead, feeling like a huge dork but finding solace in the way that Zayn seems to relax over it. “And also,” he continues, gathering strength from the way that Zayn’s fingers grip onto Liam’s, until they’re tangled, “I might’ve just broken up with my ex, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not over her. To be honest, I think we were both over each other long before we made it official.”

“Oh,” Zayn whispers, and Liam can’t help but smile. Oh, indeed. 

“I know that we said that we’d be friends, but, if you’re on board, I’d really like to see where this goes?” He can feel the nerves trying to constrict his throat, trying to make it so that he can’t say it, can’t put himself out there and risk getting hurt. But it’s Zayn, and Liam feels safe with Zayn. Safe enough to be brave, to be funny, to be all those things that Zayn sees in him. “See if we can’t make fire blossom between us.”

Zayn, who had been shifting even closer, now pulls back, looking at him incredulously. “Did you just-” 

“Make a joke about both our magics?” Liam can’t even be sorry, because Zayn’s smiling, that tongue behind his teeth thing that will never fail to be special. “I guess I sort of did.”

“You’re such a dork.” Zayn murmurs, but it’s fond and soft and Liam tucks it away with the rest of Zayn’s compliments, because in his voice, in this moment, it sounds like the sweetest thing anyone’s ever called him. 

Liam grins back at him. “That’s not an answer,” he teases, and Zayn smiles wider, blush creeping up higher on his cheeks. God, he’s so pretty. 

He knows what Zayn will do before it happens. Knows it with perfect clarity, deep down in his soul, and it’s like something inside of him is finally breaking open, like all these years with all these people he’s held himself back somehow and he knows that finally, this time, he’s found the person that will accept and love all of him. All those flawed and broken bits that he’d hid away or worked so hard on to minimize. He reaches out for him before Zayn’s even shifted to straddle him, his hands secure on his hips. “How’s this for an answer?” Zayn whispers, and as he kisses him, as Liam starts to believe in magic more than ever, he thinks, it’s _perfect_.

-epilogue-

The next year might be the best year of Liam’s life. It’s made up of so many new experiences, but none of them are truly frightening, because through everything, Zayn’s always at his side. He’s a steady source of reassurance, of comfort and stability and love, a fierce beacon of hope that always guides Liam through even the hardest moments. 

Their first date doesn’t feel like their first date at all. It’s a continuation of something that feels like it had started years ago, like they’ve met in a thousand different lifetimes and this was always the outcome. They talk and they cook and they flirt and they kiss, fall into each other and in love in such a way that Liam can’t even pinpoint the moment that he knew. It feels like the date never ends, like their third and fifth and twentieth date could still technically be the first, because what they have and what they do feels permanent from the get go.

The fairies divide their time between their houses, and Liam doesn’t just get used to them, he grows fond of them, misses them when they’re not around. Some are more focused on the flowers, on helping Zayn in his shop, but others spend most of their time with him, training him once he finally gives into his curiosity and asks them to explain his gift to him.

He learns to listen to his instinct more than ever. It’s a subtle change, at first, but he knows, even before setting foot inside of a house, whether there’s still people trapped inside, and exactly where to find them. He also learns that without fail, he’ll be able to carry them out unharmed.

The fairies were right, fire doesn’t touch him the way it touches others. He’s not immune, not by a long shot, but he learns to throw up a shield, fire bending away from him rather than rushing towards him to lick at his skin.

He stays careful though. Knows, for one, that he’d never be able to explain to his boss why he should let him inside buildings that seem structurally unsafe. He doesn’t want to risk being seen as reckless, because Zayn and the fairies were right, this is his calling. It’s what he needs to do with his life, but the last thing he wants is for anyone to find out why he doesn’t seem to feel the same logical apprehension as every one of his colleagues does. What he and Zayn have, their relationship not just with each other but with the fairies, is something to be protected, to be kept safe. 

It’s a whirlwind of a year, so many things changing, but as they move Liam’s stuff from his house to Zayn’s, the _for sale_ sign in the front yard, Liam knows that this is going to be the last time he ever has to move house. He’s finally found it. _Home_. 

And even with everything changing, one thing stays the same. 

On those nights that he works the late shift, Zayn still, without fail, waits up for him.

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, please leave a kudo/comment so I know that you want me to write more Ziam!  
> Feel free to come talk to me on my [Tumblr](https://so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed.tumblr.com/) anytime, and please consider reblogging the [fic post](https://so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed.tumblr.com/post/627719830282420224/the-birth-of-love-like-a-force-of-nature-ziam)


End file.
